


Carrier

by graveyardwitch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Drama, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Heavy Angst, Hurt Stiles, Kidnapped Stiles, Light Bondage, M Preg, Multi, Teen Angst, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 75,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveyardwitch/pseuds/graveyardwitch
Summary: Stiles Stilinski is a sixteen year old with a secret...He's a Carrier-A boy with a genetic mutation that means he can get pregnant- something no one else in his small town of Beacon Hills can know about, not even his best friend Scott.  Allison Argent is a teenage girl caught up in a fantatical ideology and beginning to question everything she's ever known.  After a horrific attack means Stiles can no longer hide, he begins to learn who his friends really are.  Meanwhile Allison finds herself torn and unsure which side to choose...Because the sinister organisation known as the F.A.C are lurking in the shadows, just waiting to strike... O.k, I'm shit at summaries.  Please just give it a read...After all, you've logged in already and everything, you might as well.  There's probably nothing on TV.  And I think you'll enjoy it!





	1. Chapter 1-An Appointment

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I originally had this idea for another fandom. I left that fandom but the idea just wouldn't go away and then I started watching Teen Wolf (very late to the party, I know!) and the story just started forming itself around Stiles and the other characters. To give you an idea of the timeline, the story is set around seasons 2-3. Yes this story has M-preg and if that makes you feel a bit squicky don't worry...It always confused me too. And it always bothered me that none of the Mpregs I read ever had an actual explanation as to WHY men could get pregnant in the story. You were just supposed to accept it. They say always write the thing you think you cannot write, so I decided to write an Mpreg story that was as realistic as I could make it. 
> 
>  
> 
> If you have been reading this and are confused- Yes, you didn't imagine it. Derek was originally in tis story, but I got feedback from readers that suggested I change his character to Peter Hale, so I did. There are trigger warnings, please heed them. If you've read past them then I'm just going to assume you're a big girl/boy/gender neutral person and can handle what I'm going to throw at you. Right, let's get on with this...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a medical appointment...
> 
> FYI, there is a medical exam in this chapter.

Chapter One-An Appointment.

 

It was ten minutes until the end of practice when Stiles noticed Scott start to weaver. The changes were subtle-a slowing of his pace, a slumping of his shoulders as he stood in front of him in the line-up, but Stiles had known him long enough to tell when an attack was coming on-After all, hadn’t that been how they’d met? They’d been in Kindergarten when Scott had taken an attack on the jungle gym. Stiles had caught him before he fell and shouted to a teacher for help. They’d been five years old, and he’d been looking after him ever since. 

He stared at Scott’s back. Already he seemed to be struggling, his shoulders heaving as he began to wheeze.

“ALRIGHT MC CALL, YOU’RE UP!”

He raised his hand. “Uh Coach, I don’t think….”

“SHUT UP STILINSKI! TODAY, MC CALL!” 

Scott’s breath was a rattle in his chest now, yet he lifted his lacrosse stick, shuffled forward…And slumped to the ground. Immediately a crowd surrounded him and Stiles had to push his way through. 

Scott was on his hands and knees, struggling for breath. 

“It’s ok buddy, I got you. Hang on.”

“Stilinski, what’s wrong with him?!”

“He’s having an asthma attack.” Stiles crouched down beside his friend and tugged off his helmet. When Scott looked up at him his lips were already turning blue. His eyes were wide with panic. “It’s o.k man, it’s o.k. Where’s your inhaler?”

“In…In…In my bag.”

“Right, I’ll be right back.” He jumped to his feet and ran for the changing rooms.

 

By the time he got back Scott was lying on the field with everyone panicking around him. Couch was shouting into his cell phone.

“I THINK WE NEED TO CALL AN AMBULANCE! THE KID CAN’T BREATHE!”

No. If that happened, Scott would never live it down. Ignoring all the others, Stiles lay down on the grass, face to face with his friend. 

“Here,” He shook his inhaler before pressing it into his trembling hand. Scott took puff after puff, but still he wheezed and coughed. His eyes were wide, as he stared up at them all. “Shhh man, take it easy. You’re panicking and it’s only making it worse. Look at me. Scott, look at me.” His friend’s brown eyes locked with his and he could see the fear in them. “O.k, now breathe…just breathe…Nice and slow. Like this…” He slowed down his own breathing, taking calm, deep breaths. Scott began to copy him, his gaze never leaving his face. Soon his own breathing became easier and his chest stopped heaving. Stiles watched as the colour came back into his face and lips before smiling at him. “You o.k now?” Scott nodded and he stood, before helping him to his feet. The team surrounded them.

“You ok man?”

“Hey Scott, are you alright?”

Coach appeared beside them, hanging up his phone. “Feeling better Mc Call?”

Scott nodded. “Yes Coach.”

The teacher looked from him to Stiles. “Jeez Stiles, that was some full-on Jedi shit you just pulled.”

Stiles shrugged. “Thanks Coach.”

“Still, Mc Call I think you should sit the rest of this one out. You’re benched ‘til the end of practice.”

“Can I sit with him?”

For a moment Coach seemed about to argue, then he caught himself and shrugged. “Sure. After all, it’s not like you actually contribute, Stilinski. Off you go.”

They walked over to the bleachers and flopped down to watch as the rest of the team lined up to take shots again. 

“Well, that was close.”

“Yeah, you haven’t had an attack as big as that in a while.”

“No, but you stopped it.” Stiles turned to find Scott fixing him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “No problem. I’m your best friend. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Still…That has to be the tenth time you’ve saved my life.”

“Twelfth. I’m keeping score. Got a little notebook and everything. When I ask you for payback, it’s going to be epic.”

Scott laughed at that. “You know I’ll always help you out.” He turned away from Stiles to stare across the field. “Hey, is that Peter Hale?”

“Who?” Stiles followed his gaze to where a tall, muscular man with dark hair stood watching the team’s practice intently, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Peter Hale. Y’know, that guy your dad kept arresting for starting bar fights.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles remembered now. Every town had at least one guy like Peter Hale-a loner who seemed to run on anger and aggression, who seemed to relish causing trouble and spent most of their time in dive bars or police custody. There had been a time when most of the calls his father had gotten had Peter Hale involved in them somehow. “I thought he was in prison.”

“What for?”

“Dunno, but it must have been serious. He was away for four years.”

“Well he’s out now. Didn’t know he was a lacrosse fan.” Scott turned back to him. “So, we’re going to the Full Moon party on Friday night?”

“We haven’t been invited.”

“That’s never stopped us before.” Scott’s smirk was full of devilment. “Besides, Lydia will be there.”

Lydia…Stiles clasped his hands to his chest and pretended to swoon. “Ah Lydia Martin! Queen of my heart! Love of my life! Purveyor of my every smutty masturbatory fantasy!”

“She doesn’t know you exist.”

“Shut up, it’s a work in progress. Anyway, I’m in.” Behind them the school bell rang. He jumped up and grabbed his stick. “Right, I’d better go. My dad is picking me up.”

“I’ll see you tonight?”

“Sure.” He made to walk away, only for Scott to call after him.

“Stiles?”

“Yep?” 

“You seem have a lot more appointments lately. Are you o.k?”

His expression was caring, full of kindness and concern. And suddenly Stiles wanted to just drop the act and tell him it all, every detail of the terrible secret he’d been hiding from him for the last eight years-the humiliation, the pain, the insomnia, the medication that made him angry and sick, the fear every time he saw another report in the news. But he’d spent so long constructing this persona of the sarcastic joker who didn’t give a shit about anything…And Scott was his best friend- Really, if he was being honest, his only friend. He couldn’t take the risk. 

So he bit his lip and he lied. Again. “Yeah man, I’m fine. It’s just routine stuff, just scans to make sure I don’t have the same condition as my mom. I’ll see you later.”

As he marched across the field he could feel Scott’s curious stare burning between his shoulder-blades with every step. 

 

The patrol car was waiting for him in the parking lot. He dumped his bags and stick in the trunk before climbing in the passenger side. 

“So, you ready?” His father avoided his gaze. Stiles could feel the shame and embarrassment coming off him in waves. 

“Umm hmm.”

“O.k.” He turned on the engine.

They didn’t talk on the way to the hospital, didn’t even look at each other. It had been so different when his mother had taken him for these appointments. Back then the car would have been full of music, of jokes and promises of pizza and ice cream when they got home-anything to distract him from what was coming. But now she was gone, and all that was left was this awkward silence. As they pulled up outside the back entrance, he felt his stomach lurch and instinctively looked to his father for reassurance, only to find him looking as nervous as he felt.

“Right, let’s get this over with.” He turned and reached towards him, and for a moment Stiles fancied he was going to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. But instead he caught the hood of his sweatshirt, tugging it up over his head. “Cover your face, son. Can’t have anyone recognising you.”

He nodded, even as he felt his cheeks grow hot. Of course there had probably been rumours in the hospital for years. But no one could know it was him. 

 

Dr Stevens was waiting at the door for them, along with Scott’s mother. Although Stiles knew she was completely trustworthy and bound by confidentiality anyway, he still couldn’t look her in the eye. When he’d been little it had been cool to have his best friend’s mom treat him- now it was humiliating. Together they draped a sheet over him and whisked him down the corridor and into Dr Stevens’ office.

Stiles had always liked Dr Steven’s office. Not even the fact that his treatment room was next door made it seem any less cosy. It was filled with books, anatomical models and forgotten cups of coffee that were growing their own beards of mould. There was always a bowl of sweets on his desk that people were welcome to help themselves to. He flopped down on one of the overstuffed armchairs and took a toffee from the bowl as Dr Stevens turned to his father who hovered in the corner, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Sheriff, Nurse McCall has a few forms for you to fill in today, if you don’t mind? Bloody paperwork will be the death of us all.”

“O.k.”

He glanced from father to son, noting the tension between them. “Sheriff Stilinski, if you’d like to take a seat?”

“Uh, sure.” Stile’s father perched awkwardly on the edge of the plastic chair beside him.

“So…” The doctor sat down behind his desk. “How have things been?”

Stiles bit his lip as his father sighed. “Well, we’ve had a few tantrums and rows-But nothing on the scale of before. He’s still hyperactive. The school say he lacks focus. Could that be the medication?”

“Possibly.”

“And he’s sleeping a lot.”

Dr Stevens laughed at that. “Oh, that’s perfectly normal. As a teenager I swear my son was part man, part mattress. I’m glad to hear things have improved though. Adolescence can be quite difficult due to the added hormones.” He made a note on his clipboard. “What about you, Stiles? How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? What a huge question. Suddenly they were both staring at him. He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Alright, I guess. The meds do make me feel tired, but I don’t think I’m as angry now. And, lately there’s been no…y’know…bleeding.” His father winced at that. “Do you think, maybe, it’s stopped?”

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. “The medication must be working. Right,” He closed the clipboard with a snap and stood. “Shall we get this unpleasantness out of the way?”

Stiles nodded and followed him reluctantly through a door to their right and into the treatment room. 

 

The treatment room couldn’t have been more different to Dr Stevens’ office. It was cold and painted startlingly white, lit by a flickering florescent strip light. It smelt so strongly of antiseptic that it made his stomach churn. The only furniture were a couple of plastic chairs, a stacked tray on wheels and-lurking behind a grey curtain like something from a torture chamber-the examination couch, medical stirrups hanging from its end. 

“Up you pop and let’s get these bloods done first.” Stiles climbed up onto it and watched as Dr Stevens snapped on some latex gloves and arranged his instruments carefully on a tray. “Sleeve.” He rolled his sleeve up and winced as the doctor slid the needle into his vein. At least here, away from his father’s shame, he could let himself be a bit more open about his fears. 

“Can I ask you something, Doc?”

“Ask me anything Stiles, I’m an open book.”

“Now that I’m a teenager and I’m growing and stuff, can people…you know…tell?”

Dr Stevens’ frowned at him curiously, his forehead wrinkling. “Tell what?”

“That-That I’m a Carrier.”

“Oh I see.” The old man’s expression softened. “Specifically girls, I’m assuming?”

Stiles flushed. “Well, yeah…I like girls.”

“Yes, we’ve had this discussion and I’ve told you; while many Carriers are gay or bisexual, there are also many cases of heterosexual men with the gene-Your condition does not determine your sexuality.”

I know. But, it’s not just girls…it’s also the other kids at school…Everyone. Like, in a locker room. I play Lacrosse.”

The doctor reached to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Absolutely not. No, Stiles, to the outside world you are a perfectly normal sixteen year old boy. Only you and I know that you are, in fact, extraordinary.” Stiles couldn’t help but smile at that. Most people talked about the C919394 gene like it was a freakish abnormality or an abomination-Dr Stevens made it feel like a superpower. “There, all done.” He set the little vial of blood down on the tray and stuck a cotton wool bud over the puncture wound. “I know you hate this next part, so let’s get it over with, shall we?” He nodded, feeling his stomach tighten and his throat grow dry. “There’s a gown there for you. I’ll give you some privacy.”  
Left alone, Stiles stripped off his clothes and put on the gown, the rough cotton scratching his skin. He climbed beneath the cool sheet and hugged his knees to the chest, feeling suddenly very vulnerable, and very young. 

Dr Stevens’ white head appeared round the door. “Ready?”

No. But Dr Stevens had talked to him about how it was necessary, how to help people with his condition they first had to learn more about it and they could only do that through studying him and others like him. When he’d been younger he’d argued, cried, thrown tantrums; and his mother had always been there to calm him down, to hold his hand and stroke his hair…But she wasn’t there now. He bit his lip and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Good, good.” The Doctor stood and wheeled the Ultrasound machine over to the couch. “Right let’s get this show on the road.” He reached for the tube of gel…

“Dr Stevens?” They both looked up. Scott’s mother was standing in the doorway looking panicked. “Mrs Mooney has a PPH. They’ve rushed her to theatre but she’s haemorrhaging badly.”

Dr Stevens leapt to his feet, swearing under his breath. “I’m so sorry Stiles, but I have to go deal with this. It’s really serious. I won’t be long.”

“That’s O.k Doc. Trust me, I can wait.”

“I’m sure you can. Nurse McCall, can you stay with Stiles for me please? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Of course.” She waited until he’d left before moving to stand awkwardly beside Stiles. “So…How is school?”

He turned and arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m butt-naked underneath this gown and about to be probed. I think I’ve hit enough of a low already without discussing which classes I’m failing.”

“O.k, fair point. So…How many classes is Scott failing?”

He shook his head at that. “Sorry Miss McC but that information dies with me- bro code.”

“Ah, I see.” She pulled a plastic chair over and for a while they sat in companionable silence. 

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Before Scott’s mother could reach it, it was wrenched open and a black man in a white coat bustled in. He was overweight and tall, with an air of bluster and authority that was obviously designed to intimidate. 

“Ah, Nurse McCall.” His voice boomed around the near-empty room.

“I’m sorry Mr Beecham, but I’m with a patient.”

“That is precisely why I’m here.” He jerked his thumb at Stiles. “This is the Stilinski kid, isn’t it?”

“Well yes, but-”

The man ignored her, moving to snatch up the clip-board Dr Stevens had left sitting on the edge of the bed and riffling through it. “So the consent forms have been signed-excellent. I have a class.”

Scott’s mother became flustered. “But I’m afraid Stiles isn’t my patient, Sir. He’s Dr Stevens’…”

“Oh Stevens won’t mind.” 

“But Sir…This case is highly confidential.”

“I’ll warn the students.” The man marched forward to loom over Stiles. “Hello, do you know who I am?”

“Nope.”

“My name is Mr Beecham and I am the Chief Consultant at this hospital. That means I’m the boss.” His tone was patronising.

“Oh. Good for you.” Stiles wondered if he should be impressed. Beside him, Scott’s mother seemed torn between wanting to run somewhere and being frightened to leave him. Mr Beecham shot her what seemed to be a warning look before turning back to him.

“Now, I’m not sure if you are aware, but Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital is a teaching hospital and the leading in its field for Ops and Gynae instruction.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

The consultant chuckled and patted him on the head as if he were a small child. “You don’t need to. All you need to know is that I have some medical students out in the corridor who are all very excited about meeting you. Would it be alright if I brought them in?”

Something in his tone suggested that it had better be, but Stiles still gawped at him, horrified. “Uh, well I…”

“None of them are local; they’ve travelled all the way here from the mid-west just to see you. It’s vital for their education that they learn how to treat people with your condition. Most of them will never get an opportunity like this again.” Panic seized him. The last thing he wanted was a crowd of people gawping at him like he was a freak…But Mr Beecham really was intimidating, the way he loomed over him, glaring down at him expectantly. Somehow it felt like he didn’t really have a choice. And suddenly, without even quite realising what he was doing, Stiles was nodding. “So you don’t mind them coming in to see you?”

“I guess.”

“Excellent.” He spun on his heel and made for the door. Scott’s mother hurried after him.

“Mr Beecham, the patient is a minor…”

“He is sixteen and mentally competent, Nurse McCall, he can give oral consent. And his father has signed forms consenting to treatment.”

“Yes, but you haven’t made it clear…”

He cut her off. “Nurse McCall, I assure you that the patient will only be subjected to his usual routine examination. Except that today it will be carried out by the Chief Consultant.” He crossed the room to a door in the opposite wall, pulled it open and stuck his head out. “Alright, everybody in!”

And suddenly the room seemed to be full of people.

Stiles cowered, hugging his knees tightly to his chest as the medical students formed a semi-circle around him, staring at him like a crowd at a sideshow. Mr Beecham moved to address them, clapping his hands for their attention.

“Now I realise that you have seen many fascinating and unusual cases today, but I’d like to think I have saved the best for last.” He waved his hand at him with a flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen, this patient is sixteen years old…And he is a Carrier of the C919394 gene.” An excited murmur rose up from the crowd and Stiles ducked his head, cheeks burning, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “This is a rare opportunity for you to observe the physiology of this new mutation. If you could lie back for me please?” He placed a large hand on Stiles chest and pushed him gently but firmly back onto the pillows. “Now if you could just lift your gown to show me your stomach?” Stiles did, careful to make sure that the sheet covered his private parts and avoiding the gazes of the people that surrounded him, even though he could feel them boring into him. “This may be a little cold.” Mr Beecham applied the gel and placed the ultrasound scanner to his skin. He turned his face away, mortified, as they all crowded round the monitor. “Now, here you can see all the usual organs-bladder, stomach and so on-but here’s where it gets unusual…Can you all see this shadow here just below the stomach? Well this is a pouch, known as the ‘Hominus Matrix’ that will, should conception occur, develop into a womb in which to house the growing foetus. And can you see this here? This tube of muscle branching off from it and running parallel to the Sigmoul Colon and then seeming to fuse with the rectum? Well that’s the birth canal. O.k, all done.” The scanner was removed, the gel wiped from his skin and Stiles sat up with a sigh of relief, daring to hope that it was all over…but no…”Now, could you lie back for me again please?” He knew what was coming, and he didn’t want him to. The consultant had said they’d just wanted to meet him, hadn’t said anything about this. But they were all looming over him, watching him expectantly, and he couldn’t say no now- could he? So he obeyed, suddenly feeling so out of control, so helpless. His heart flipped at the metallic clicks of the medical stirrups being pulled up into position. He gritted his teeth as his legs were lifted into them and strapped firmly into place-Dr Stevens never bothered with the straps, and he always talked to him during this part, even told jokes, anything to get him to relax. But this man seemed more interested in his audience. “Good boy. Now…” He let out a shocked yelp as the sheet was whipped away and his gown pushed quickly up to expose the most private part of his body to them all. Gloved hands began to examine him. “As you can see, the genitalia is typical of a normal human male, the only difference being the size of the penis and testes-Both of which are bigger. The testes are larger so as to contain both sperm and eggs in separate compartments. Notice this slightly raised line that looks like a vein? This is- in fact- an egg duct, which continues into the body and is connected to the ‘Hominus Matrix’.”

“Mr Beecham?”

A young blonde man with glasses who was standing at the back of the group raised his hand.

“Yes Thompson?”

“I was just wondering Sir, given that it produces both eggs and sperm, can it self-impregnate?”

‘It’-To them, he was an ‘it’. Stiles gritted his teeth, blinking away furious tears.

“I’m not an it.” He said quietly. “I’m a he.” But the blonde man wasn’t even looking at him, his gaze fixed on the consultant as he waited for his answer.

“An excellent question. No, self-conception is made impossible by the position of sperm and eggs within the body, meaning they never come into contact with each other. Experiments to fertilise a host’s eggs with their own sperm have also failed.”

“I see.”

“Eggs are released once a month with the accompanying hormonal changes. However, if fertilisation does not occur, the egg and lining is simply shed in menses. Now…Let’s have a look inside, shall we?”

Stiles hated this part at the best of times, but now with all these people peering between his legs, it felt nothing short of violation. He wanted to shout at the Consultant to stop, but at the feel of that cold metal instrument pressing at his entrance he froze, suddenly unable to move or speak. “O.K, I need you to take a deep breath in…Now let it out.” 

And then the speculum was pushed swiftly inside him and opened. 

“AHH!” He cried out in shock and pain. But none of them were paying any attention, so focused on gawping at the abnormality that they’d completely forgotten about the human being involved. 

“Now, as you can see the birth canal runs alongside the rectum, its opening separated from the anus by a thick membrane and covered with a hymen. Most of the time it is closed and lies flat against the rectal wall. However, during arousal it swells to cover the opening for penetration. It has also been observed to swell during moments of excitement or severe stress.”

The burning pain was breath-taking; he felt like he was being ripped in two. It never felt like this with Dr Stevens. He struggled against the straps, the metal stirrups digging into his ankles.

“Could you lie still for me please?” There was an edge of annoyance in the consultant’s voice. “Now, during birth…” 

Stiles tried to be still but it hurt so much. He screwed his eyes shut against their curious stares, gritting his teeth and clenching the sheet in his fists. “…As you can see, the birth canal is very similar to…”

“Umm, Mr Beecham?” A woman’s voice. “Sir?”

There was a sigh of irritation; Mr Beecham clearly did not like to be interrupted. “Yes Miss Morgan?”

“I’m sorry Sir-but I think the patient is crying.”

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

They all turned.

Dr Stevens stood in the doorway, still in scrubs, Scott’s mother at his elbow. He was incandescent with rage. “ALL OF YOU, OUT! NOW!”

As the medical students scuttled away, Mr Beecham turned to glare at him, pulling himself up to his full height and puffing out his chest like an angry peacock. “Stevens, how dare you speak to me like that in front of my students?! Need I remind you that I am…”

But Dr Stevens wasn’t listening. Instead he marched across the room towards him until they were nose to nose. “How dare you conduct an internal examination on one of MY patients without my knowledge, certainly without my consent or the consent of his parent!”

“The patient consented.”

When Dr Stevens next spoke his voice was low, threatening. “And did he understand fully what he was consenting to?” A look of panic ghosted over the other man’s face and he shook his head in disgust. “You never change, do you?”

“Stevens, if you could just give me a moment then we can discuss this outside.”

“It’s a child this time. Stiles is a child who was not well enough informed to consent to an internal exam. I hope you realise that what you have just done is tantamount to assault!”  
The other man gaped at him. “Now Stevens, hang on…”

But the doctor cut him off. “You do realise I’m going to have report this, don’t you? And if his father sues I’m naming you. The man’s the local Sheriff! Now, get away from my patient and get out!”

At that Mr Beecham seemed to deflate like a popped balloon. He spun on his heel and slunk towards the door. Dr Stevens watched him go before rushing over to the couch.

“Oh Stiles, I’m so sorry!”

Stiles rubbed his tears away with his fist. “Just get me out of this, Doc.”

“Of course.” He removed the speculum, unbuckled the straps and released him from the stirrups. Stiles rolled over onto his side and pressed his face into the pillow, hugging his knees to his chest. He felt so humiliated, so violated. The doctor reached to touch his shoulder. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“They were all staring at me, talking about me like I was a freak! One of them called me ‘it’!”

“You’re not a freak, Stiles.”

“Yes I am!” And suddenly he was sick of pretending. He sat up. “Can’t you just operate? Cut it all out?”

Dr Stevens sighed. “We’ve already discussed this. There’s too high a risk…”

“Yeah, yeah I know but…”

“Most patients bleed out on the table.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I don’t think you understand. Stiles-you could die.”

“I DON’T CARE! PLEASE! I DON’T WANT TO BE LIKE THIS!” 

His shout echoed around the room. In the silence it left behind they stared at each other, the old man’s expression growing ever sadder as his grey eyes searched his face. 

“Stiles, talk to me. You’re not coping, are you?”

Dr Stevens had always been so kind, so understanding, and all of it felt like a weight sitting on his chest, and maybe, just maybe, if he talked to someone it would lift, and he wouldn’t feel like he was drowning all the time. He shook his head and took a deep, shuddering breath as tears stung his eyes.

“I-”

“Stiles?” They both turned. His father was standing in the doorway. “You alright, son?”

He hurriedly wiped the tears away with his fingers. “Yeah Dad, I’m fine.”

“Is he good to go Doc?”

“Yes, all finished. He just needs to get dressed.”

“Right, I’ll go bring the car round.” 

They watched him leave and then the doctor turned back to him, reaching to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You were saying..?”

But the moment was gone. “You heard me. I’m fine.” He slid from beneath the old man’s comforting touch and reached for his clothes. 

 

****************************

 

Late that night Stiles was woken from a fitful sleep by a familiar searing pain that sliced across his stomach and lower back. He sat up with a groan, lifting the duvet away…  
The white sheet beneath him was soaked crimson with blood. He twisted to examine the pool of red that was rapidly spreading across the back of his pyjama pants. 

“Shit!” So they hadn’t stopped after all.

He grabbed a clean pair of underwear and hurried to the bathroom and the packet of horrible, plasticky, specially shaped pads he’d hoped he’d never have to use again. He washed the blood from his skin and changed before heading back to his bedroom, the pad rubbing with every step. He stripped the bloody sheets from the bed, rolled them into a ball along with his stained underwear and pyjamas, and headed for the laundry room. He was just about to load the machine when his father’s voice rang out behind him, making him jump.

“Stiles? What are you doing?”

He froze. “Laundry, Dad. I’m doing laundry.” 

“At three am?”

“Yeah.” He turned round sheepishly. For a moment his father stared at him, frowning in confusion; then he spotted the blood stains on the sheets. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and his eyes grew wide. 

“Oh…OH! But I thought the medication…”

“Apparently not.” He could feel his cheeks growing hot. 

His father shoved his hands into his pockets and stood awkwardly. “So, um, do you need a hand?”

“No. I know how to do laundry, thanks.” 

“Right…So, umm, are you in pain? Can I get you some aspirin or..?”

“Really Dad, I’m fine. I got this.” He turned back to the machine, stuffing the sheets inside and praying that his father would just go away. 

“O.k, so I take it you won’t be going to school until your…until this stops?”

“Nope.”

“Right, I’ll call them at work and tell them you have a bug or something. My shift isn’t over ‘til twelve-will you be alright?”

“Yep.”

“Stiles…”

“I said yes.”

“Stiles…”

And something inside him snapped. He spun round to glare at his father. “I SAID YES, DAMMIT! OH MY GOD! DO YOU NOT SEE HOW MORTIFYING THIS IS?! I’M FINE! JUST GO TO WORK!”

“No son, you-you have…”His father’s expression was wretched. He couldn’t even look him in the eye as he pointed. 

Stiles looked down-To see droplets of blood trickling down his inner thigh and dripping down onto the tiles. “Shit!” He’d bled through the pad already.

His father stepped towards him, obviously worried. “Look, I’ll get someone to cover me. Here, let me help you…”

“How?!”

The question pulled him up short. “I-I don’t know. I wish your mother was here. She’d know what to do.”

His words sent a shock of pain through Stiles that made him bite back a sob. Of course she would; she’d know exactly what to do. She’d take the sheets from him and wash them, then she’d run him a bath and fix him a heat pad, and not once would she look at him the way his father was looking at him now-like he was a horrifying accident he didn’t know how to fix. 

“Well she’s not. So just leave me alone. I can handle this myself.”

He still seemed unsure. “There’s a lot of blood…”

Of course he didn’t understand, of course he didn’t know what to do, but Stiles was still furious at him- Furious at him for his awkwardness, for his shame. 

“Really?! Ya think?! Yes, there’s a lot of blood, because I’m a heavy bleeder. And yes it hurts! A lot! There’s cramps, and headaches, and leaking, and all of that’s normal! The only abnormal part of it is that it’s happening to ME! Because I’m abnormal! And you can’t fix that! So just let me handle this. I’m not dying, Dad. I just have my period.” 

There, he’d said it. Well someone had to. Period. He’d gotten his period, the same as he had every month since he was thirteen. For a moment they stood staring at each other in silence. His father sighed.

“Right. Well, I gotta go back to work. I’ll bring home pizza for lunch”

And then he was gone, leaving his son bleeding all over the floor.


	2. Chapter 2-Abomination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has an awkward Biology lesson. And the Argent Family arrive in Beacon Hills.

Chapter Two-Abomination

 

“So, it was a bug?”

“Yep.” Stiles dumped his bag onto their usual bench as Scott sat down. “I swear it was pouring out of me like molten lava, like…Oh, hey Lydia!”

The pretty teenage girl paused by their bench to fix him with a look of shocked bewilderment, pouting her gorgeous rose-petal pink lips as she looked him up and down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Stiles did his best not to look awkward or creepy. “Well sure, sure you do. We have, like, ten classes together. I’m Stiles.”

Her perfect little snub nose wrinkled in confusion. “What’s a Stiles?”

At that Scott burst out laughing, and Stiles stamped on his foot beneath the desk. “Me!” He pointed to himself. “Me- I’m Stiles.”

“Oh. Good for you.” And then with a swish of her strawberry blonde hair she was gone, across the room and into the arms of her handsome, perfect boyfriend Jackson; Lacrosse Captain and all-round winner of fucking everything. 

“I just don’t get it-what does he have that I don’t?”

“A lack of ADHD, a trust fund and a Porsche. Oh, wow!” 

Stiles followed his best friend’s gaze…To the girl who had just stepped through the door, accompanied by a teacher.

“Class, this is our new student Alison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

With her slender figure, long chocolate brown hair and perfect bone structure, Stiles could see the attraction; but Scott was looking at her like she was the last glass of water in the desert. Utterly entranced, he twisted round to watch her as she walked down the aisle to sit at the desk behind them, before snatching up a pen that just so happened to belong to Stiles.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” She took it from him with a shy smile and he turned back to Stiles, grinning as if he’d won the lottery.

“Wow!” He whispered. “Do you think she knows about the party?”

“It’s her first day, Scott.”

“Then I’ll tell her.” 

Stiles caught his shoulder before he could turn back round. “Oh, hell no. You’re not getting a girlfriend before me. And you sure as hell aren’t having sex before me. Get your head out of the gutter Scotty and pay attention. We’ve got a test coming up.”

“But…”

“No sexy thoughts.” Stiles waggled a warning finger under his best friend’s nose. “I mean it. You’re failing biology as it is.”

Scott couldn’t argue with that. They turned back to the board, just in time to see the word that the teacher had written in capital letters:

 

REPRODUCTION

 

*********

 

Half an hour later and their hands ached from writing. 

“…And once sperm meets ovum conception is complete and new life can begin.” Their teacher put down her piece of chalk and turned to address the class. “Now, until recently, this was the only way human beings could reproduce-via sexual intercourse between a man and a woman. However, with your generation has come a fascinating biological change…Can anyone tell me what it is?” At her words Stiles’ heart sank and he lowered his gaze to his page. At her desk at the front Erica Reyes- resident suck-up-bounced, her hand waving in the air. “Anyone apart from Erica?....Ok, fine….Yes Erica?”

“Is it that gene?”

“Yes Erica, that’s right. It’s still rare-Around one in every five thousand-but some baby boys born into your generation have been found to be carriers of the C919394 gene…” She wrote it carefully on the board. “…A new form of gene normally carried by the mother and passed on to her son. Can anyone tell me what it does?” Already the class was giggling, but Erica bounced in her chair regardless. “Yes, Erica?”

“It means they can get pregnant!”

The class erupted into laughter. Stiles felt his cheeks grow red hot and prayed that no one would notice. 

“All right! Settle down!” Their teacher held up a hand and waited for silence before continuing. “That’s exactly right, Erica. Possession of this gene means that these boys-known as Carriers-though genetically male, can, once they are old enough and if they have intercourse with another male, conceive and carry a baby.”

A murmur rose up from the class.

“It’s true; I saw it on the news! This guy! He was pregnant! Bump and everythin’!”

“That’s sick!”

“Disgusting!”

“Ewww, gross!”

Beside him Scott snorted in amusement. “Freaky!”

That stung. Stiles began to doodle on his notepad, concentrating hard. 

“Miss White?”

They all turned to where Jackson lounged in his seat. The sight of his arm slung casually across Lydia’s shoulders made Stiles’ blood boil. 

“This better be relevant, Jackson.”

“Oh, it is. I’m dying to know…are those guys mutants? ‘Cause that ain’t natural!”

Stiles hoped she’d yell at him, but instead their teacher nodded thoughtfully. “You’re half-right there Jackson. The C919394 gene IS a mutation. But it is, in fact, perfectly natural. Genes mutate all the time. And this isn’t the only case of male pregnancy in the natural world either-Many other species of flora and fauna have males who are able to conceive in the event of lack of females. The male sea-horse, for example, gives birth to its young. Personally, I feel that it is, in fact, possible that we’re looking at a leap forward in human evolution.”

Jackson’s lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. “I don’t think they’re a leap forward. I think they’re mutants, freaks, mistakes-Abominations. The F.A.C has the right idea.”

 

And Stiles felt sick to his stomach as all around him the class began to cheer.

 

**********************

 

At home that evening he flopped onto the couch, illicit beer in hand, and turned on the T.V. The screen crackled to life to reveal a news bulletin. A newscasters’ voice spoke over grainy CCTV images of a crowd, kicking and punching a figure as they lay curled up on the ground.

“…The attack took place in the early hours of Saturday morning when Simon Henson was returning home from a night out with his partner. He miscarried at the scene. This is just the latest attack in what Amnesty International is now calling a nationwide epidemic…”

If his father had been there with the remote he’d have quickly changed the channel-as if Stiles didn’t hear the reports on the radio, see the newspaper headlines every time he went into a grocery store. He took a deep gulp of beer and forced himself to watch as they cut to another shot-This time of a street full of crowds waving signs and placards. 

‘STOP THE CARRIER DISEASE!’

‘UN-NATURAL! ABNORMAL! AGAINST GOD!’

‘MOTHERS AGAINST CARRIERS.’

‘GOD HATES CARRIERS!’

Above them all a giant banner waved in the wind.

‘FAITHFUL AGAINST CARRIERS! (F.A.C)’

“And in related news, today the organisation ‘Faithful Against Carriers’ marched to Capital Hill with a list of proposals to present to the Senate. Our reporter, Catherine Morrison, was at the scene...”

The picture changed to show a pretty woman with a red bob standing beside a tall, pompous looking dark-haired man. “Thank you Tom. I’m standing here with Pastor Jonathon Anderson, the head of the F.A.C and the organiser of today’s march. Pastor Anderson, thank you for talking to us. Could you please explain your proposals?”

The pastor smiled patronisingly down at her, puffed up with his own self-importance, and Stiles fought the urge to throw his beer bottle at the screen.

“Well Catherine, we are proposing a registration system and national database for all Carriers born on American soil, as well as the mandatory screening and sterilisation of infants who are found to have the C919394 gene.”

“And what do you say to the charities out there who are arguing that the existence of Carriers is a natural progression and your proposals are a breach of Human Rights?”

He rolled his eyes and snorted in derision. “We at the F.A.C believe that there is nothing natural about the C919394 gene. Radiation, pollution, perhaps a disease sent down by God to punish us for embracing such sins as homosexuality and divorce; but natural? Absolutely not! These creatures are abominations. We see our proposals as being the best way to protect the American people and the sacred institution that is the American family from a dangerous threat. We see that as our responsibility as devout adherents to our religions, whether we are Muslims, Christians or Jews.”

“And what about recent allegations that the F.A.C are using underhand and even illegal tactics against men found to have the gene? Posting pamphlets through doors in neighbourhoods where they live; revealing confidential medical records…Amnesty International has even stated that you have cells in every state with the express purpose of hunting down and harassing Carriers. They have even claimed to have found evidence of the involvement of the F.A.C in several serious assaults.”

He scowled at that. “Scurrilous accusations that are completely unfounded. A vicious, spiteful smear campaign concocted by bleeding-heart liberals. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turned and made his way back to his adoring followers. The reporter turned back to the camera. “Ok, so back to you Tom.”

“Lying bastard!” This time Stiles did throw the bottle. It bounced off the TV stand before hitting the rug, but at least it didn’t smash. He turned off the TV and tossed it into the trash before heading up to his room. 

Once there, he lay back on his bed and stared up at the cracked ceiling. Downstairs in the living-room he’d been angry. But up here he was scared. 

Unnatural…abnormal…abomination. The words stung like a series of slaps. Then his mother’s voice rose from the depths of his memory to sooth him. 

“People always fear what they don’t understand, baby. And their fear will sometimes make them cruel. They’ll say hurtful things that they don’t really mean. But their fear has nothing to do with you. You’re perfect.”

He closed his eyes and let himself drift back to that day in the kitchen when he’d been eight years old, the day when they’d finally decided he was old enough to be told what he was. 

**FLASHBACK**

She’d poured him a glass of chocolate milk, complete with curly straw, and he remembered how he’d played with it, twisting it between his fingers as he’d considered what she’d just said.

“So…I’m not really a boy? Then what am I?” He remembered that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Mom, am I…Am I a girl?”

She’d chuckled at that, reaching out to stroke his cheek with her fingers and ruffle his hair.

“Oh honey. You like Spiderman and Power Rangers, you play baseball, you and dirt are magnetically attracted to each other, and your bedroom smells like a hamster’s cage. You’re DEFINITELY a boy. You just have a medical condition that means you have extra organs and stuff. And they’re not girl organs- they’re something different. But some people may not understand that, so it’s better to keep it a secret, o.k?”

“Yeah.”

She’d lent across the table to kiss his cheek. “Good boy, now go get washed up for dinner.”

**END FLASHBACK***

 

And it had been as simple as that. He sighed and let the memory fade. She’d never acted like it was a big deal, like he was in any way different…Until that terrible day a year later when she’d forgotten who he was. He couldn’t bear to think about that day, couldn’t bear to think about what it was like to watch her fall apart, how she’d slowly shattered piece by piece, his father fighting to put her back together, cutting himself on every shard of her. He couldn’t bear to remember the day the Doctor had told them that it was frontal-temporal dementia and that she couldn’t be fixed. 

No, he was too much in his head now. He needed a distraction. He snatched up his cell-phone and hastily typed a message to Scott.  
“I’m coming over.”

 

He ran down the stairs, snatched his keys from the hall table…and then hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave a note… before coming to the crushing realisation that his father probably wouldn’t care.

 

**************

 

Allison let herself into the new house that didn’t feel like home quite yet, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the hook. Normally the house would be hiving with everyone talking and laughing as they went about their business, the kids shouting and laughing as they played, but this evening the rooms were dark and deserted. Somewhere in the distance she could hear voices.

“MOM?! DAD?!”

“WE’RE IN THE BASEMENT HONEY!” Her father’s voice.

Of course-The basement always ended up command central. She snatched a can of coke from the fridge before making her way toward the stairs.

The cramped room was filled to capacity with her Family; some of them real and some adopted, all of them wearing F.A.C T-shirts; and all of them sitting watching her mother-the Right Honourable Minister Victoria Argent-like she was the second coming of Christ. Her aunt Kate met her in the doorway. 

“So, how was school?”

“Fine. Same as all the other schools.”

“Any cute guys?”

She thought about the boy who’d given her a pen; the boy with the sweet smile and huge coffee brown eyes. She couldn’t keep the embarrassed smile from creeping over her lips. 

“Umm, maybe one.”

Kate beamed. “O.k, meet me in my room as soon as this is over. I’ll provide the candy and you dish the dirt. But first, we need to support your Mom while she rallies the troops.”  
They turned back to where she was doing just that. Alison cringed when she realised that she’d made yet another power-point presentation.

“O.k everyone! New town, new start and this time we want to hit the ground running.” A map of the town flashed up on the sheet they’d pinned to the wall to use as a screen. “Now we plan to divide the town into sections. You will all be split up into teams and tasked with going door-to-door handing out leaflets, spreading the word about this new threat to our way of life.” 

From his spot in the corner, one of the men, Jonas Carville, spoke. “Do we know if there are any here? Chapter 15 found one down in Louisiana last week. We haven’t found any. There have been emails from Head Office…”

Around them rose a murmur of discord that caused annoyance to flash across her mother’s face. Allison knew why. Out of all the Chapters, they’d been the only one to not track down a Carrier yet. If things went on the way they were, the organisation would start to blame her mother’s leadership. For a moment Allison thought she was going to lose her temper. Then she ran a hand through her short red hair, took a deep breath, seeming to compose herself, and raised a hand for silence.

“Well, I didn’t want to share this information until we’d settled in, but we’ve already heard rumours that there is, indeed, a Carrier in Beacon Hills.” A murmur of excitement rose up from the crowd. “And, naturally, we plan to investigate. We may yet have a chance to redeem ourselves. Obviously, this is a small town and the community seems tight-knit. It’s possible that they’ve been harbouring the individual for a long time. It could take a lot for them to give him up. We need to adopt a ‘divide and conquer’ strategy; breed unease by playing on their concerns, until one of them does the right thing.”

Jonas frowned. “And if they give it up, what then?”

And suddenly they were all shouting.

“Drive it out!”

“Put it down!”

“Kill it! Put the abomination out of its misery!”

This last shout elicited a roar of agreement from the Family that made Allison’s blood run cold. She looked to her mother but she was beaming, high on the collective hysteria. She looked to her aunt only to see her smiling and nodding in agreement. Only her father, stationed at her mother’s side, seemed concerned, his brow furrowed in worry as he surveyed their excitement at the suggestion of murder. He turned to whisper in her mother’s ear, before moving to address them, raising his hands for calm.

“Brother and sisters, I am proud to see how strongly you feel. However, these Carriers are the monsters, not us. We here are all good religious folk. We at the F.A.C have a Code of Honour. And, if we do find the creature, then I expect you all to abide by it as far as it applies.” There was some grumbling but they calmed down, settling back into their seats. “And now, I’d like to invite you all, as our Family, to join us upstairs in the kitchen for some refreshment.”

Kate elbowed her in the side. “Thank God! Now we can slip away and talk boys. Come on, I’ve got a chocolate stash in my case.”

She let her lead her up to her bedroom, perching nervously on the end of the bed as her aunt knelt to search through her suitcase. Her aunt Kate who was only a few years older than her: her aunt Kate with her beach babe blonde hair, glamourous wardrobe and kick-ass attitude: her aunt Kate who was her best friend. Allison had always hero-worshipped her. She found herself wondering if that was about to change.

“Kate?”

“Yes hun?” She looked up at her curiously. Allison took a deep breath.

“What-what they were saying down there about, y’know, killing a Carrier if we find one here. Do you agree with that?”

Kate sighed. “You’re kind, like your father. That’s not a bad thing but…Look Allison, think of it this way-Carriers beget other Carriers. Their sons are born with the gene; their daughters will give birth to sons with it. Soon they’d make women like us obsolete. We wouldn’t just be killing one. We would be keeping them from infesting this town. These things aren’t people, they’re mutants, mistakes. They’re not meant to exist.”

“But I thought God doesn’t make mistakes?”

“Carriers aren’t of God. Haven’t you been listening to Pastor Anderson’s speeches?” She turned back to the case, lifting something from an inside pocket. 

“But-but what if it’s just a kid? Or even a baby? What about the Code?”

“It’s the F.A.C’s code, not mine.” She stood and tossed something onto the bed in front of her. “Glock 26, Gen 4. Ain’t she a beauty?”

Allison’s jaw dropped and she gaped at it in horror. The contrast of the cool, black metal of the gun against the flowery quilt seemed almost grotesque. When she met her aunts stare, there was a coldness there she’d never seen before. 

“We’re Warriors of God, Allison. And sometimes warriors have to shed some blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.k, so I'll be posting chapter 3 in the next couple of days. Please, please take the time to leave Kudos or a comment to let me know what you think. And thank you soooo much for reading, you're pretty!


	3. Chapter Three-The Wolf In The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party becomes a night that Stiles can never forget when he encounters a wolf in the woods...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are warnings on this story for a reason. Most of them apply to this chapter. Please, please read them!

Chapter Three-The Wolf in the Woods.

 

It was the day of the party and, once again, Stiles was helping Scott out.

“So, what do you want me to say?”

They both peered round the wall and down the busy school hallway to where Allison was standing at her locker, packing her bag. 

“I don’t know. Maybe; ‘Hey Allison, my friend Scott was wondering if you’d go with him to the Full Moon party tonight?’ But try not to sound like there’s any pressure. Or make me sound desperate.”

“But you are desperate.”

Scott punched him on the shoulder. “Shut up! Now come on, let’s hear it.”

“What? We’re having a rehearsal now?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Oh my God! Fine!” He rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, affecting an exaggerated slouch. When he spoke it was in a sleazy drawl. “Well hey there, Allison.” He arched an eyebrow suggestively. “You know my buddy Scott? Socially awkward, slightly uneven jawline, wheezes a lot? Well he wants to peel your clothes off and lick every inch of your soft, silky skin…but he’d settle for your company at the Full Moon party tonight. If you let him lick you afterwards, that’s none of my business.” Scott grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Hey, it’s just a joke! Relax, dude!”

“You mess this up Stiles, and I swear I’ll stab you.”

“Well, why can’t you do it?”

Scott released him, looking embarrassed. “Because…because, when I even think about it I get all wheezy and sweaty. C’mon Stiles, I’ve asked Lydia out at least ten times for you!”  
“And yet she still doesn’t know who I am. Oh my God, we’re so pathetic. We’re going to be virgins forever.” They turned back to where Allison was closing her locker. “Ok, you know what? You’re my best friend. I can’t doom you to a life of celibacy. I’m goin’ in!”

He took a deep breath and marched up to Allison. “Hey, Allison!”

“Hi.” She smiled at him. “You’re in my home room, right?”

“Yeah. English, too.” So far, so good. “Look, Allison. My friend Scott…”

And then Lydia appeared at Allison’s side, looking like some sort of strawberry blonde earth-bound angel, and he suddenly found himself without the ability to form coherent sentences. 

“Allison…Oh, hi Steve.”

“Uh…um…”

Lydia looked him up and down like he was something that had just crawled out of the sewer before turning to her new friend. “O.k, so there’s this thing tonight-The Full Moon party. It’s this big blow-out we do out in the woods once in a month. There’s usually a few kegs. Everyone will be there.”

“Uh, yeah…Full Moon party….Allison…” Shit, Scott was relying on him and here he was, crashing and burning. They were completely ignoring him now. “Uh, my friend Scott…”

“So, you up for it? You can get to know everyone.”

“Yeah, sounds like fun. What time does it start?”

“Around ten, usually. Only thing is, you’ll have to make your own way there. Jackson is insisting on bringing the Porsche and it only fits two. I mean, I told him it was stupid. It’s in the middle of the freakin’ forest; it’s not like anyone will be see…”

Suddenly a hand landed on his shoulder, and Scott appeared at his side. “That’s cool. Allison can come with us. Stiles has a jeep.”

“That works. See you at lunch Allison.” Lydia flashed a smile at her before walking away, taking all of Stiles’ hopes and dreams with her. Allison turned to Scott, their gazes met…And Stiles suddenly felt very much like the third wheel.

“So, you’re going to the party?”

“Yeah. I-I thought we could go together.”

“I’d like that.”

“So, how about we pick you up around 9:45?”

“Great.”

Scott was, at that moment, living his best life and Stiles hated to ruin it-but they couldn’t continue without mentioning the usual disclaimer. 

“Um, Scott.” He elbowed his friend in the ribs and got a death stare. “Tell her.”

“Oh, yeah. Just don’t tell your parents that Stiles Stilinski is giving you a ride, o.k?”

Allison’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why not?” She turned to stare at him and he squirmed beneath her gaze.

“Um, I’m kind of known for being Trouble. Not in a cool ‘car-jacking, drug dealing, law-breaking, serial seducer’ kind of way; More like a ‘kid who always lets off the fire alarm and tepee-d couch’s house last Halloween’ kind of way. But parents still tend to warn each other about me.”

She laughed. “Somehow, I doubt my parent’s will be worried, since I’ll be telling them I’m going to see a movie with Lydia.” She tugged a little notebook and pen from her backpack and scribbled something down, before ripping it out and handing to Scott. “Here’s my address. I’ll see you guys tonight.” Then, with one last lingering look at Scott, she turned to go before pausing and turning back to Stiles. “And don’t worry. I’ll keep reminding Lydia that your name is Stiles.”

They waited until she disappeared into a classroom before sharing a victory dance.

 

Later that evening, Stiles stood in front of the mirror in Scott’s bedroom, assessing himself. The teenage boy who stared doubtfully back at him was skinny, pale and weedy looking, his cropped dark brown hair beginning to grow out and stick up in all directions. He reached to touch the tip of his snub nose. “Dude, is my nose weird?”

Scott looked up from where he was buttoning his shirt. “Yes.”

“Thanks for the support.” He stared at his outfit of jeans, Adidas sneakers and blue plaid shirt. “Maybe I should have dressed up.”

“I highly doubt a tuxedo would work in the woods.” Scott shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his rucksack. “Look…” He reached inside and pulled out a pack of beers. “Managed to get some old guy to buy them for me. You get anything?”

“Yep.” He reached down into the plastic bag he was carrying and lifted out the bottle of Jack Daniels, holding it up for him to see. “Stole it outta my Dad’s drink cabinet. He’ll think he drank it.”

“Sweet.” They both knew they had more chance of getting into the party if they had alcohol to contribute. “Come on. Let’s go pick up Allison.”

 

The house they pulled up in front of was large yet seemingly full of people. They stood silhouetted in the windows talking, piled up on the couch watching TV in the living room and sat smoking on the porch. 

“What is this; a commune or something?” 

Scott shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Suddenly Allison appeared round the side of the house, running toward them and jumping into the back seat. “Drive! Quick, before they realise there’s two boys in the car!”  
Stiles put the peddle to the floor and his ancient jeep shot off. 

 

They parked at the edge of the woods and walked through the trees towards the sound of voices and loud music. 

“So, Allison…Big family?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, not exactly. My father is a commercial supplier of guns and ammunition and we’re hoping to set up a depot here. Some of his workers are just staying with us until they can find places of their own.”

“Oh, that’s…intimidating.” Allison didn’t answer and Stiles looked up to find her and Scott making googly eyes at each other as they walked. Great, so that’s how the evening was going to play out. He unscrewed the lid from the bottle of Jack and took a deep swig.

 

********************

 

Two hours later and Stiles was beginning to feel like the Invisible Boy. The clearing in which the party was being held seemed full of couples grinding on each other in time with the loud music, sitting on the ground kissing, or slipping off into the trees for something more serious; And here he was sitting alone nursing a warm beer, while Scott and Allison developed some sort of soul connection not two feet away. There was nothing else for it-He needed something stronger. He turned to the fledgling couple.

“Uh, guys I’m going to…” But Scott was reaching to push Allison’s hair back from her face while she flushed pink and gazed longingly into his eyes. “Nobody cares. Ok, cool.”  
He made his way over to the bonfire, where all the alcohol they’d managed to beg, borrow or steal had been piled onto a rickety folding table, and searched through the bags until he found his bottle of Jack. It was still two thirds full. “Pussies.” 

He turned, knocking the bottle back, and spotted Jackson in the middle of the heaving crowd. A girl was wrapped around him and he was kissing her deeply, grinding into her, one hand sliding across her chest, the other up her skirt. Lydia. She must be drunk. He was taking advantage of her. Furious, Stiles surged forward, determined to stop him-only to pull up short when the girl leaned back so Jackson could suck on her neck, tossing her long, blonde hair out of the way with a twist of her head. 

Not Lydia.

“OH MY GOD!” Lydia herself suddenly appeared, shoving her way through the crowd to grab the girl by the shoulders and yank her out of Jackson’s grasp. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?! GET AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND, BITCH!”

“HEY, CHILL OUT! HE…”

“SHUT UP!” 

Everyone around them had stopped dancing now to gawp at the drama beginning to unfold, but Lydia’s fury was so white hot that she carried on regardless. “And you!” She rounded on Jackson with a face like thunder. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, and you’re cheating on me?! What the hell made you think you could cheat on me and get away with it?! I’M LYDIA MARTIN!”

But Jackson only laughed at her, his expression twisting into a sneer of arrogant contempt as he looked her up and down. “Yeah, you’re Lydia Martin. And Lydia Martin’s frigid.”

The crowd around them let out a collective gasp, before starting to snigger. At his words Lydia seemed to shrink, her fury melting away to be replaced by embarrassment…worse, hurt. She folded her arms around herself, as if to shield herself from him, and Stiles’ heart lurched when he saw the tears in her eyes.

“Jackson, stop it.”

But Jackson was on a roll now. He stalked forward to tower over her, circling her as he humiliated her in front of them all. “What do you expect me to do Lydia, huh? I take you fancy places; I buy you expensive gifts, and NOTHING!” His yell made her jump. “Yeah, you’re Lydia Martin, and your legs are fucking sealed shut! You act like your virginity is some sort of prize! You’re a vacuous, stupid, pathetic little bimbo, and you don’t even put out!” Lydia was crying now, mascara black tears dripping down her bright red cheeks. “So, can you blame me for going somewhere else? Could anyone blame me? Let’s put it to the crowd!” 

“Jackson, no…”

But he turned to them all with an expansive wave of his arm, yelling so everyone could hear. “LYDIA MARTIN’S FRIGID, SO I’M LOOKING FOR PUSSY SOMEWHERE ELSE! ANYONE GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?!” The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers. Mortified, Lydia turned and ran, disappearing into the trees, tears streaming down her cheeks. “YEAH, RUN! GO ON! AND YOU CAN WALK HOME!”

And then, with the show over, everyone went back to dancing and drinking-Apart from Stiles. He marched up to Jackson, his rage giving him courage. “Hey Jackson!” He turned to look at him in surprise. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

And then he turned and ran into the woods after Lydia.

 

*****************

 

A predator was in the woods that night. He lurked on the fringes of the forest and circled round the edge of the clearing, careful to stay out of sight as he watched the gyrating teenagers like pray… 

Peter Hale had always craved extremes. There was no car too fast, no fight too tough, and no drug too hard. He loved pushing the limits, thrived on the high. And then, one drunken night, he’d found the website and the online community known as The Wolf Pack. It was one of the final taboos, and when he’d broken it the buzz had lasted for weeks. Too bad he’d gotten caught.

He’d been trying to stay out of trouble lately- not go straight exactly, just stay off the cops’ radar. Then while out for a walk he’d stumbled across the party…Well, there was no harm in window-shopping was there? But now as he watched those kids dancing, drinking, kissing, he felt that familiar itch…

Suddenly a teenage girl burst through the undergrowth not ten feet away from him. She slumped forward, grabbing onto a tree trunk for support as sobs racked her slender body.

“LYDIA! LYDIA, WAIT!” A teenage boy burst through after her, and ran to her, his eyes wide with concern. “No Lydia, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. He’s not worth it!”

“Just leave me alone!”

Well this was interesting. He moved closer, hiding behind a tree to watch.

“No! I’m not leaving you out here by yourself! Look, Lydia…”

“He doesn’t mean it. Not really. He just gets like that when he drinks.”

“What?! He just humiliated you in front of the entire school!”

“He’s my boyfriend!”

With her long red hair and china doll face, the girl would have been enough to get most of the wolf-pack howling-but not him. He preferred boys. They were more of a challenge and so more of a thrill. And this one was perfect. Peter stepped forward, drinking him in. He was about fifteen maybe sixteen, slender, and puck-like, with his impish face, golden brown almond shaped eyes and cute button nose. His dark brown hair stuck up in tufts and Peter imagined running his fingers through it, tugging it hard. 

“He yells at you, he puts you down, he makes you cry- he treats you like crap! He’s a dick! You deserve someone who treats you better than that Lydia!”

“Like who? You?”

For a moment the two kids just stared at each other. Then the boy stepped back, running his fingers nervously through his hair. Peter noted the scattering of freckles across his creamy cheek.

“O.k, I’m going for it.” The boy took a nervous gulp from the bottle of whiskey he was carrying. “Yes. Yes, me. I love you.”

“What?!” The girl gaped at him, wide-eyed.

Peter fought the urge to laugh. This was just too cute!

The boy took a deep breath. He looked terrified. “I love you, Lydia Martin. I’ve been in love with you since third grade. I think you’re beautiful, and smart, and amazing, and if I were your boyfriend…”

“Jackson’s captain of the Lacrosse team, and the swim team, and…”

“So? That shit doesn’t matter-don’t you see that? I can treat you better than he ever could! You should be with me, not him!”

The girl stared at him, shocked. Then she looked down at the bottle he was carrying. “You don’t mean that. You’re just drunk.”

The boy shrugged. “Yes. Yes I’m drunk, but…”

“I-I have to go find Jackson.”

And then she was gone, leaving the poor boy totally exposed-And completely alone. Of course, he felt sorry for the kid…But Peter Hale had never been a man to miss an opportunity…

 

*****************

 

Stiles could barely breathe. He’d told her. He’d finally told her everything and she’d just thrown it back in his face. And now he was going to have to see her every day at school. She was probably going to tell Jackson, who was going to kick the shit out of him…but that probably wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as what he was feeling right now, right this second. 

“Tough break, kid.”

He looked up.

Peter Hale was standing right beside him, hands in the pockets of his leather biker jacket. Something about the way he was staring at him put Stiles on edge-but no, he was just being stupid. The guy had a reputation for being a bit crazy, sure, but he’d never heard of him being dangerous. He felt himself blush.

“You saw that, huh?”

“Yeah.” Peter shrugged. “Bitches, man. They don’t know what they want. And there you were probably hoping to get laid.”

“No!” Peter arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him and Stiles relented. “Well, maybe…At some point…with her. But not right away!” He turned to look back in the direction of the party. “And now she’ll never speak to me again.”

“Oh I don’t know about that. You were the only one to go after her. You’re a good kid-That has to count for something.” Peter lowered his gaze to the bottle. “So, you going to drink all that yourself or..?”

Stiles looked down at it. She hadn’t believed him because he was drunk. He was never drinking ever again. “You keep it. I gotta go.” He shoved it at Peter and turned to go back to the party.

And that’s when Peter barrelled into him, sending him sprawling.

He landed on the ground with a thump, smacking one side of his face against a rock, the pain making his head spin. Then suddenly Peter was on top of him, pinning him down with his entire body-weight, crushing the air from his lungs.

“WHAT THE FUCK? GET OFF ME!” Peter punched him in the back of the head once, twice, so hard his vision blurred. Suddenly his hands seemed to be all over him, grabbing at him, tugging at his clothes. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP IT! STOP! LET ME UP!”

He struggled, kicking out, his heel connecting with soft flesh. There was a bellow of pain, the pressure lifted, and he surged forward, hands scrambling for purchase on the muddy ground, only to have them swiped out from under him, one arm twisted behind his back and yanked so hard he was sure the bone would break.

“AHHH! LET GO OF ME!” 

But then the pressure came again, Peter’s body pinning him in place, Peter’s hot breath on his cheek as he whispered in his ear.

“What’s the matter kid? I thought you wanted to get laid.”

At Peter’s words, his blood turned to ice.

“NO! NO, STOP! WAIT! PLEASE!” But Peter’s hand clamped down over his mouth, silencing his protests. He was struggling, fighting with everything he had- but Peter was so strong. It was all happening so fast; Peter’s knee on his back, the ripping of fabric, a rush of cold air on his skin, then Peter on top of him again, one hand on his mouth, the other holding his wrists behind his back, a searing pain that made his eyes blur with tears…No, no please! No, stop! I don’t want to! You’re hurting me! …His body was being pushed back and forth now, ground into the earth, and he was screaming, screaming into the palm of Peter’s hand, and above Peter’s groans and the pounding of his heart in his ears he could hear music and laughter, he could see the light from the fire through the trees. They were partying; all of them, just feet away. They had no idea what Peter was doing to him and no one was coming….no one was coming to stop it. 

And then Peter grunted.

And released him.

And stood up.

And did up his flies.

And smiled.

There was the flash of a camera phone. 

His jeans and boxer shorts were round his ankles. He reached down to pull them up. He felt dizzy, couldn’t catch his breath. His stomach churned and he scrambled onto his hands and knees, heaving.

“Get up!” Peter pulled him into a sitting position and he hugged his knees to his chest. He couldn’t stop shaking, why couldn’t he stop shaking? Peter sat down beside him and Stiles turned to look up at him, tears dripping off his chin.

“You son of a bitch.”

Peter laughed at that. “What’s your name?”

He turned away…And Peter lashed out, slapping him hard across the face. “I asked you a question!”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles.” He grabbed his arm, yanking him close so he could hiss in his ear as he shrank away from him. “O.k Stiles, you listen to me. You speak a word of what happened here to anyone and I’ll hunt you down, I’ll rip your fucking throat out…And then I’ll go after that girl of yours. You understand?” He nodded. “Good. You’re shaking, Stiles. I think you need something to calm you down.” He grabbed hold of him, tugging him to his chest and grasping his jaw, tilting his head back. The rim of the whiskey bottle was forced to his lips. “Open your mouth! Open your fucking mouth, you little shit!” He obeyed and Peter forced him to drink what was left, ignoring him as he spluttered and choked. Finally he stood, pulling him to his feet and giving him a shove forwards. “Go on, kid. Go back to the party, back to your friends…Back to your girl.”

He spun round. But Peter was gone as quickly as he’d appeared, disappearing into the trees…But definitely still watching.

Stiles ran.

 

The party was a blur of bodies, shadows writhing in the firelight. Their laughter sounded manic. The music seemed so loud, the beat pounding inside his skull. He pushed his way through them, bouncing off dancing bodies, searching…

“Hey! Watch it!”

“What the hell?!”

“Hey, dude what’s wrong?”

“He’s bleeding!”

“Stiles, man, are you o.k?”

Hands reached out to him but he pushed them away and stumbled on. He had to get out of there. He had to get out of there NOW. But he couldn’t go without them. A familiar face emerged from the blur and he grabbed at the figure.

“Danny! Danny, have you seen Scott and Allison?”

“Think they’re getting a drink. Holy Shit Stiles, are you alright?”

But Stiles ignored him, and stumbled on. Suddenly the crowd in front of him seemed to part…

To reveal Scott and Allison, sitting by the fire, kissing.

The sight pulled him up short. He suddenly realised that he didn’t know what to say to them, what to say to convince them to leave when they were having such a good time…That there was no way he could ever tell them what had just happened-He didn’t have the words. So he turned and walked slowly through the woods to his jeep, leaving them behind.

 

The house was dark when he got home, which was good…All he wanted was to go to sleep and never wake up. He made his way towards the stairs. Then a voice rang out from the direction of the living-room.

“And where the hell were you?!”

He turned. 

His father stood in the door frame, his expression one of barely contained fury. Shit. When he spoke the words seemed to catch in his throat.

“I-I was at Scott’s…”

“Studying, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Except that isn’t true, is it? You’re lying to me Stiles! Again!”

“Dad…”

“Get in here!” He obeyed, pushing past him into the living-room, lit only by a side-light. “Jesus Christ! You stink of whiskey! Have you been drinking?!” 

Stiles looked beyond him, to the full glass resting on the arm of his chair-Looked like he wasn’t the only one. “Yeah, I’m sorry Dad.” 

“And what the hell happened to your face?” 

He reached up and touched his cheek, wincing at the sting. The tips of his fingers came away coated with blood. “I-I don’t know…”

“You’re slurring your words. You must have fallen over drunk! Wait…Are those your car keys?!”

He looked down at them in confusion. He’d forgotten he’d even been holding them. “I guess. Look…Look Dad…I have to tell you…”

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? YOU STUPID, STUPID LITTLE BASTARD! I’M THE FUCKING SHERIFF! WHAT IF YOU’D GOTTEN PULLED OVER? WHAT IF YOU’D BEEN ARRESTED? I’D HAVE LOST MY FUCKING JOB! WHAT IS IT WITH YOU, STILES, HUH? ALL YOU DO IS CAUSE ME TROUBLE!”

“Dad, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Give me those fucking keys!” He snatched them out of his hand. “You’re grounded until I say different. Now, get out of my sight!”

“But Dad…”

“NOW!” 

And Stiles could see from the rage in his eyes that he didn’t want to know. He made for the stairs.

 

He locked his bedroom door before climbing into his bed fully-clothed and tugging the covers over his head, blocking out the world-Or hiding from it, he didn’t know. The cotton pillowcase felt cool on his bruised cheek and stinging lip, but he could feel the blood soaking into it, making it stick to his skin. His head was pounding and every inch of him ached. Peter’s voice rang in his ears.

‘…I thought you wanted to get laid.’

Had he…had he somehow asked for it? And what was ‘it’, exactly? Had it been sex? Or…or had it been rape? Peter was older than him, a grown man…he’d held him down, he’d pulled off his clothes, covered his mouth with his hand…He’d said ‘no’, screamed it, in fact…And surely nothing else could leave him feeling so utterly and completely violated? And so deeply ashamed….He should have fought harder.

In that little cocoon of blankets, safe from the outside world, he curled up into a ball and cried.

 

************************

 

“STILES! GET UP!” His father’s fist pounding on the door startled him awake. “TIME FOR SCHOOL!”

As soon as he moved his head the hangover kicked in, the agonising pounding in his skull making his stomach churn. Every muscle in his body screamed at him. He sat up, licking his sandpaper dry lips, and looked about him in confusion.

Why was he dressed? There seemed to be mud everywhere; walked across the carpet, in the sheets and all down the front of his clothes. And something else…He squinted, was that..? Yes, blood. There was blood all over the pillow.

And then it all came flooding back. He doubled over, gasping, as the flashbacks hit him like a blow to the stomach-Peter on top of him, holding him down as he struggled and fought with everything he had; screaming for help and no one being able to hear him; that horrific, tearing pain… “You speak a word of what happened here to anyone and I’ll hunt you down, I’ll rip your fucking throat out…And then I’ll go after that girl of yours.” 

Another bang on the door made him jump.

“STILES, I MEAN IT! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED, NOW!”

He stood and walked to the door on shaking legs. He waited until he heard his fathers’ footsteps fading away down the stairs, then unlocked it and crept to the bathroom. As he locked that door he caught sight of himself in the mirror, and froze. He stepped towards it, inspecting his reflection.

A wide gash ran the length of his right cheekbone. His cheek was bruised, his lower lip split and bloody. There were strange bruises across his mouth, right across his lips. He lifted his hand over them and found it fit perfectly. He looked down at his bruised wrists, at the palms of his hands, which were scraped and dirty, and then on down to the mud caked on his shirt. The waistband of his jeans was torn, the top button missing. He began to undress, wincing as his muscles protested with every movement. Every shed item of clothing revealed another cut or bruise. He twisted round to inspect the small, purple bruises on the backs of his thighs, round like fingerprints, before sliding his boxers down and off.

There was blood in them, rusty brown now on the light blue cotton, along with something else…When he realised what it was he suddenly felt soiled, dirty…disgusting.  
He turned on the shower and climbed in, pressing his forehead to the cool tiles as the water cascaded down over him, washing the tears away even as he shed them. What a way to lose your virginity. He looked down to where the water in the tray beneath him was slowly turning brown with mud and blood.

‘A little water clears us of this deed.’

It was from MacBeth. They’d learned it in English. Why was he remembering it now? Wait… Yes, yes that was it. He reached for the shower gel and began to scrub himself furiously. He was going to wash away every trace of Peter Hale and of that night. Then he was never going to think about it again, pretend that nothing had ever happened, and maybe, if he pretended hard enough, then one day he’d forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.k, I know that was a pretty hard-core chapter. Well done for making it through it! Thank you sooooo very much for reading and an even bigger thank you to those who left comments and kudos. They mean so much! Please, please take the time to leave comments and/or kudos to let me know what you think about this chapter. I will have the next chapter posted by next Friday.
> 
> Next time....Stiles deals with the fallout from Peter's attack and Allison falls deeper under the influence of her Aunt Kate.


	4. Chapter Four-A Terrible Secret to Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months on, Stile struggles to deal with the aftermath of Peter's attack...

Chapter Four-A Terrible Secret to Keep

 

But all of that was easier said than done….

 

He was back there, back in those woods, heart pounding in his ears and Peter on top of him, holding him down, pulling at his jeans, hands going everywhere, and he was fighting so hard, but it wasn’t making a damn bit of difference. And it didn’t matter that the music was too loud for anyone to hear, and it didn’t matter that Peter was gagging him with his hand, he was still screaming….

“NOOOOOOOOOO! AAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He surged upwards, blind with terror. Strong arms caught hold of him and he fought desperately against them. “NOOOOO! LET ME GO! AHHHHH!”

“Shhhhh! Shhhhh! Hey, hey, hey…” His father’s voice, calm and soothing in his ear, pulling him back to the present. “It’s o.k. It’s o.k…You’re o.k.” Slowly, through a haze of tears, the trees melted away to be replaced by his bedroom walls and his father sitting behind him, hugging him tightly to his chest. “It’s alright, Son. It’s alright.” For a moment he curled into him, craving the comfort he’d felt when he was little and thought Dad’s strong arms could protect him from anything; and his father cradled him, gently stroking his hair. “Shhh, it’s o.k, kiddo. I got you. You’re safe.”

Then embarrassment took over, and he pulled away and sat up, wiping his tears away with his fingers.

“Sorry Dad, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s o.k. I’m getting used to it again.” His alarm began to beep and his father reached over to punch it off. “It’s time for school anyway.” He hesitated…then ruffled his hair in an awkward show of affection. “Go grab a shower. I’ll fix you breakfast.”

They smiled at each other and then he was gone. Stiles stumbled to the bathroom and washed the last traces of the nightmare away, before going back to his room and dressing in his baggiest sweatpants and hoodie. 

 

The radio was blasting in the kitchen, the air thick with the dizzying scent of frying food. He slumped into a chair at the table and cradled his head in his hands.

“The Carrier Sterilisation Row between the F.A.C and Congress has been hotting up today, with campaigners…”

“Dad, can you turn that off? I’ve got a headache.”

“What? Oh, sure. We don’t need that crap this early in the morning anyway.” His father clicked it off before setting a plate of bacon and eggs on the table in front of him with a flourish. “There you go. Eat up before it goes cold.”

“Thanks.” He picked at it between gulps of coffee, his stomach heaving, while his father sat down opposite him and tore into his own breakfast. Finally he looked up from his plate. 

“What’s the matter? You don’t like your food?”

“No, I’m just…I’m not hungry, that’s all.” 

He put down his knife and fork with a sigh. “O.k, that’s it. You haven’t eaten a full meal in weeks. You haven’t had night terrors since your mother died- now they’re back…”

“They’re just nightmares…”

“They’re more than that. Stiles, how long has it been since you got a full night’s sleep?”

“About two months.” And yet it still felt like yesterday…

“Yes, that’s about right. I know something’s wrong Son, but if you don’t tell me what then I can’t fix it.”

He kept his eyes on his plate, even as a wave of nausea washed over him. “You couldn’t fix it anyway.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. There was a heavy silence. Then he felt a warm hand cover his own and looked up to find his father staring at him from across the table, his lined face full of concern and his blue eyes sad. And he wanted to tell him…But in the two months since it had happened, his terrible secret had grown too huge for him to even begin to know how to voice. ‘Dad, I’ve been raped.’ Rape-It was such a vicious, terrifying word. If he said it he knew he’d change in everyone’s eyes, become just a category, just a victim. If he said it he wouldn’t be able to deny to himself that it had ever happened. If he said it, it would be real. 

“Try me.”

“I miss Mom.” Well, at least that wasn’t a lie. In the last two months he’d missed her so much that it had been a constant ache. “I know it’s been six years…”

His father’s gaze softened and he shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. I still miss her too. All the books say it gets better with time. I think that’s crap. You just learn to live with it-it never gets better.” They shared a sad smile. “You know; if she could see you now she’d be so proud.” Would she? Or would she be ashamed? He wasn’t sure anymore. “Maybe we could take her some flowers on Saturday.”

He hated visiting the grave, hated thinking about her down there all alone, but he knew that it was the only thing his father could think of that would help-Because he himself couldn’t bear to talk about her, couldn’t even look at pictures of her. After the funeral he’d taken them all down and hidden them away. He nodded.

“Sure, I’d like that.” He took a final sip of coffee and stood. “I gotta go, I’m picking up Scott. Thanks for breakfast.” He made for the door.

“Stiles?” He stopped and turned to find his father standing awkwardly behind him.

“Yes, Dad?”

He reached out to him, and for a moment Stiles thought he might actually hug him. Then he seemed to lose his nerve, and instead patted his arm. “Just-just don’t push yourself today, o.k? You look so tired.”

“I won’t.” He swung his bag onto his shoulder and hurried out into the driveway…Where he vomited up what little he’d eaten against the garden fence.

 

Scott was in a good mood, but then, that was the norm since he and Allison had become an item. He prattled on happily as they walked to class, too love drunk to notice how his best friend lagged behind, his hands shoved into his pockets as he hid behind the hood of his sweatshirt.

“Her Dad’s still keeping tabs on her, but then I had this idea: I’ve started leaving her notes in the steam on her car window. They’re invisible, see…until she blows on ‘em…”  
“Great idea, man. Genius.” Stiles blinked away his exhaustion and tried to feign interest, even as yet another burning pain started up across his stomach. He’d almost grown used to the nervous ache by now, but this was new- more…muscular. It felt as if he’d just done a hundred sit-ups in a row. The way he was going, he’d be lucky if he made it to lunchtime, never mind the final bell…

“…So, I told her I’d meet her after practice but she said she couldn’t make it; that she had a family thing on all day today so she won’t be in.” Practice. Shit. He couldn’t do it. There was no way. He’d collapse on the field. He’d have to make up some excuse.

“Uh, yeah, about that…I’m not feeling so good. Do you think couch will let me skip it? After all, it’s not like I ever actually play.”

But Scott shook his head. “Nope. Couch said last week that if anyone didn’t show up they’d get cut, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Shit! Maybe, if he could just eat something at lunch he’d feel better. 

 

Their Chemistry teacher, Mr Harris, was already yelling when they entered the science lab.

“ALRIGHT EVERYONE! TODAY WE’RE DOING A PRACTICAL SO I NEED YOU ALL TO SIT WITH YOUR ASSIGNED LAB PARTNER!” He and Scott made to sit down at a bench together, only for the teacher to block their way. “Except you two knuckleheads-I think we all remember what happened last time. Scott; go sit with Isaac. Stiles…You’re with Lydia.”

Horrified, Stiles turned to see Lydia carefully setting out the science equipment on her bench. She didn’t look up, but the way her cheeks flushed puce spoke volumes. 

“But, Mr Harris…”

“Now, Stiles.”

The short journey down the aisle to the bench seemed to take forever. He slid into the seat beside her and fumbled around in his bag for his books.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” 

She avoided his gaze, just like she’d been avoiding everything about him since that night. Before she’d just ignored him, but since the party he’d spotted her ducking into classrooms when she saw him, hiding behind her folder as she passed him in the corridor, and pretending to text so she wouldn’t have to meet his eye if he sat near her in the lunchroom. It hurt a lot more than her indifference ever had. But at least she’d never told Jackson what he’d said about him…What he’d said about her. He watched her out of the side of his hood as she searched through her pencil case for one of those stupid fluffy pens that actually seemed cute when she was using them, watched her purse her full lips like she always did when she was nervous, watched how the sunlight streaming through the window shone through her hair, highlighting the strands of copper and gold- and he knew that even if she didn’t want him, in his head at least, Lydia Martin would always be his girl. If she would just smile at him, then maybe everything wouldn’t seem so dark…But she only opened her notebook and wrote the date on the page before turning to the bottles of chemicals in front of them.

“Hmmm, which do you think is the Potassium Chloride? Is it the yellowish one? These labels are so confusing.”

He glared at her, suddenly irrationally irritated by the stupid bimbo voice she was putting on, irritated by her pretending to be less than she was. 

“Why do you do that, Lydia?”

She frowned. “Do what?”

“Act like a nit-wit. Is it for Jackson? Or for them?” He jerked his head to the class around them. 

She flushed, like a little girl caught in a fib. “I-I don’t…”

“Yes you do! But I don’t buy it. You may not have noticed me Lydia, but I notice you. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who knows how smart you really are! Not only do you know the name of every chemical in this room but you could probably use them to mix a Molotov Cocktail that would take out half the school! And you can’t hide it forever! What are you going to do when you get into Harvard or Yale, huh? Are you really going to turn that down just in case Jackson dumps you for being smarter than him? Just in case the popular crowd decide you’re a nerd and stop wanting to hang out with you? Because THAT would be truly stupid. You’re amazing and you shouldn’t ever let anyone make you ashamed of who you are. But hey, what do I know, right? I’m just some guy whose name you can’t even remember.” 

He turned back to the board, where Mr Harris was writing out the experiment instructions. For a few minutes there was nothing but silence punctuated by the squeaking of chalk and the scratching of pens on paper…Then another hand appeared beside his, the fluffy pen it held scrawling three words on the corner of his page.

Thank you Stiles.

He looked up to find her watching him nervously. “For what?”

“For what you just said…for coming after me during the party…And for what you said then about me, and Jackson. I know it’s true, but…”

“It’s complicated.”

She nodded, biting her lip as she assessed him carefully, as if trying to work out of he could be trusted with a secret. “Ever played pretend for so long that you’re just so tired of it, but you can’t work out how to stop?”

“Yeah, yeah I think have some idea of what that’s like.”

“So, just…thanks.” 

They went back to their work. Stiles had almost finished when he felt something brushing the back of his hand. He turned to find Lydia’s hand next to his, her knuckles just touching his skin. Heart pounding, he threaded his fingers gently through hers. When he looked up she gave him a shy secret little smile, before turning back to the board-And he was surprised to find that, instead of making him feel better, it almost made him want to cry; because they’d already run out of time. If only she’d smiled at him like that two months ago….

 

******************

Scott: :( Sorry u can’t make it. Pick u up 2morro?

 

Allison sighed and texted back.

 

It can’t b helped. Yeah, C U guys 2morro. Luv u x

 

She hit the send button without even thinking about it-Then froze when she realised what she’d just typed. Oh crap! She hadn’t meant to say that. They’d only been dating a few months. They weren’t quite ‘there’ yet. He probably thought she was some psycho bunny boiler now. Right this moment he was probably freaking out and thinking of dumping her. When her phone beeped she was almost afraid to look at it.

 

Scott: Will u b free 2morro nite? I can get Stiles 2 cover for us ….Luv u 2, by the way ;)

 

Relief washed over her in a wave and she couldn’t stop her mouth twisting into a grin. So they were there, after all. She rushed to text back, her fingers flying over the touch screen.

 

I’ll make sure 2 b! Yeah tell him 2 tell ur mom ur stayin over. Then we can have all night ;) xxx

 

Thank God for Stiles. He was like their sarcastic cupid. She shut her phone with a click.

“Is that lover boy?” 

She looked up.

Kate was smirking at her from her seat in the front of the computer. 

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know that look-I was a teenager once too, believe it or not. I remember those butterflies…Of course, in my day it was when he called, rather than texted. I would listen to the answerphone messages over and over before deleting them so your grandfather wouldn’t find out. You kids these days have it a lot easier, let me tell ya.” She chuckled at the flush that spread across Allison’s cheeks. Then her expression grew serious. “So, have you told him the real reason that we’re here? That you’re F.A.C?”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Of course not. But you love him right?” She nodded, biting her lip. “So I bet you tell him everything.”

She shrugged. “No, not yet…I mean… I know that we’re doing God’s work, but…We’re not exactly popular. I don’t know if he’d improve.”

“Probably for the best, since most people have the wrong idea about us. Still, if I were you I’d test the waters. Ask him what he thinks about Carriers. If he doesn’t support us then you know he isn’t the one for you.”

Allison thought about Scott; Sweet, kind Scott, with his big brown eyes; Honourable Scott who worked so hard to be the perfect gentleman, who stepped in if he saw anyone being picked on in the school corridor. She couldn’t imagine him truly hating anyone, even a freak of nature like a Carrier-And that, she realised, could be a problem.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, Kate stood and reached for her, steering her into the chair in front of the computer. She pointed at the computer screen. “Look at this.” 

Allison squinted at the undulating lines. “What am I looking at?”

“This graph shows a direct correlation between the rise in births of Carriers in the United States and the rise in infertility amongst American women. Christian scientists have been arguing for ages that there’s a connection-that the existence of these creatures is literally affecting the natural balance of things by poisoning our gene pool. Of course, they’ve been ignored by the mainstream, because they always ignore anything that doesn’t fit their bullshit liberal agenda.” As Allison stared at those lines, red and blue against white, she was filled again with that strange sense of emptiness, of having lost something she’d never even had, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around her stomach, over those parts that she’d only just found out were broken. “So you see, your condition…OUR condition…Is because of them. And that’s why I want each and every one of them dead.”

The depth of rage and pain in her aunts’ voice made her look up, and she was shocked to see the tears shining in her ice blue eyes. 

“Kate…” She reached for her, but Kate batted her comforting hand away, instead crouching down to slide her arm across her shoulder and whisper in her ear.

“That boyfriend of yours-Scott-Do you love him enough to want to marry him one day?”

“I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well just say you do. Just say one day he gets down on one knee and presents you with a big fuck off diamond and you say yes. Then you’re going to have to tell him. And when you do, you need to make sure that you tell him that it was these monsters that caused you to be born this way. Because if you don’t tell him they’re to blame, then he’ll blame you…Just like Luke blamed me. Maybe, unlike me, you’ll get lucky and he’ll stay. I hope so. But if he doesn’t, I don’t want you to do what I did. Don’t get angry at yourself, get angry at the Carriers; don’t hate yourself, hate them. These creatures are a disease and they’ve infected everything-Including us. It’s too late for you and me, but we can stop it happening to future generations of women. Kill the Carriers, stop the disease.” 

“I guess.”

“You know.” Kate gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze before reaching across her to take the mouse and shut down the computer. “Now come on. Your grandfather is due to arrive soon and I said I’d do Scripture class.”

 

Downstairs, the kids were already seated at the kitchen table, notebooks in front of them and pencils in their hands. There were six of them, aged from four to eleven-The next generation of the F.A.C. A stack of Children’s Illustrated Bibles had been piled up in the middle of the table, within easy reach. Even baby Charlie was there, seated in his high-chair and chewing happily on the corner of his bible, dribble shining on his chin. He may have only been two years old, but the F.A.C had always believed in starting them young. As she passed him, he reached out to her, opening and closing his chubby fists.

“Ally! Ally, up!” 

She glanced at Kate, who nodded. “Go on. If you don’t lift him he’ll only start grizzling.”

She scooped him up into her arms and carried him over to a stool by the kitchen counter, setting him on her lap and cuddling him close as he cooed. He was so warm, so soft, so perfect.

“Who’s my little man, hmm? Who’s my little man?”

He laughed at that, a hearty gurgle that made her melt. She caught his little hands as they flailed at her and kissed each sticky palm, before pressing her nose into his white blonde curls and inhaling that lovely milky baby smell. Babies…She’d always assumed they’d come along one day-Preferably when she was married to a handsome husband and living somewhere nice. After all, it was the natural order of things, wasn’t it? You fell in love, you got married, and you had babies. But she was seventeen and all that had seemed far far away in the future; a concern for another day-She’d never even considered whether she even really wanted children until the hospital appointment when they’d told her she couldn’t have any. 

Baby Charlie started to grow restless, wriggling in her arms, and she bounced him on her knee to make him laugh again. Before, every time she thought about it she’d been filled with a primal, aching sense of grief, of loss. Now, after what Kate had told her, she felt something else-Anger. And a pressing desire for revenge. It definitely felt better to have someone to blame. 

“Ally!” Baby Charlie reached for her hand, and she watched him thoughtfully as he chewed enthusiastically on her knuckles with his teething gums.

“Kill the Carriers, stop the disease.” She whispered it thoughtfully to herself. Suddenly, it seemed to make sense.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s start with our prayer.” 

The six children in front of Kate blessed themselves in perfect unison, just like they’d been taught to do from before they could walk. Allison pressed baby Charlie’s little hands together and joined them in reciting the words:

“Thank you for this world so sweet,  
Thank you for the food we eat.  
Thank you for the birds that sing.  
Thank you Lord for everything.”

“Well, wasn’t that lovely, Auntie Allison?” Kate gave her a wink and she made a show of nodding enthusiastically at the six little faces that turned to her.

“Yes! Just lovely!”

Kate clapped her hands. “O.k everyone, I want you to open up your notebooks to the page where you did your homework.” There was a flutter of paper as they all rushed to obey. “Now, can anyone tell me what I asked you to do?” Six hands shot up. “Yes, Ezra?”

“We had to draw a picture of something we loved! ‘Cause we were learning about love!” 

“And whose love were we learning about? Rebecca?”

“God’s love!”

“Exactly.”

Beside Rebecca, a little dark-haired boy wearing a Tomas the Tank Engine T-shirt bounced in his seat, waving his hand frantically. “Oh! Oh! Me! Ask me, Auntie Kate! Pick me!”

“Yes, Gideon?”

“God loves everyone!”

“Yes, that’s right…”

“Except the queers.” 

Kate chuckled. “Very true, Gideon. Very true.”

And then the little red-haired girl beside Gideon shouted out. “EXCEPT THE CARRIERS!”

She turned to Alison, searching for approval. “Right, Auntie Alison?”

And Alison smiled at her, nodding. “Yes, Hannah. Except the Carriers.”

 

**********************

 

That afternoon, Stiles leaned over the sink in the boys toilets, splashing his face with cold water in an effort to wake himself up. At least his stomach had calmed down enough for him to eat something at lunch. In fact, he’d been so hungry that he hadn’t just eaten his food but most of Scott’s too. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror.

The tarnished image that stared back was ghostly pale and gaunt, its eyes ringed with black. But it was still together, still standing, still pretending-And that, he told himself, was all he had to do, and only for one more hour. Then he could go home and lock himself away from the world again. 

He changed into his uniform in a toilet cubicle before going to join the team on the field.

 

They warmed up by running a few laps before lining up to practice passes. As usual, couch stood in the centre blasting on his whistle and yelling at them just because he could.

“O.K EVERYONE, I WANT TO SEE SMOOTH THROWS AND CATCHES! LET’S PRETEND THAT YOU ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!”

Scott leaned in close to whisper to him. “So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. My blood sugar must just have been low.”

Something in Scott’s expression suggested that wasn’t quite what he’d meant but Stiles ignored it, turning his back on him and concentrating so hard that he actually caught a few of the passes. Soon, however, Coach got bored of watching them throw the ball back and forth. 

“ALRIGHT EVERYONE, THAT WAS PATHETIC! SO LET’S TRY SOME SHOTS! DANNY, YOU’RE IN GOAL. EVERYONE ELSE, LINE UP!”

Scott moved behind Stiles, swinging his stick onto his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it will be long before he gives up on us for the day.”

“Judging by the way that vein’s bulging on his forehead, we’ve got about another half hour.” 

Scott turned to scan the field. “Seriously? O.k, that guy’s really starting to creep me out.”

“Who?” Stiles turned to follow his gaze-And froze. 

Peter Hale stood on the edge of the field, watching them…Watching him. He saw him looking, met his gaze, and smiled.

And suddenly Stiles couldn’t breathe. He yanked off his helmet, tossing it to the ground, but it made no difference; he was still gasping, fighting for air. Shaking violently he stumbled backwards, the ground seeming to tilt and lurch beneath him. It felt like a huge fist had grabbed hold of his insides and was twisting. Somewhere, people were shouting his name, their voices muffled by the roaring in his ears. 

“STILES! STILES, WHAT’S WRONG? STILES, LOOK AT ME!”

“STALINSKI WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! STALINSKI, I’M TALKING TO YOU!”

“STILES!”

Peter was standing there, still watching him, still smiling, and all he could think about was that he had to get away; he had to get away NOW. Yet when he made to run, hands caught him, holding him in place as he struggled. 

“Stiles! Stiles, what’s wrong?! Coach, I think he’s having a panic attack! Look at me, man! Just look at me!”

But he couldn’t, he couldn’t see anything, too blinded by terror and tears, and he had to get away. 

“GET OFF ME! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! LET ME GO!” He lashed out, knocking whoever had been holding him to the ground, and surged forward…

 

Next thing he knew he was sitting in his jeep in the driveway to his house. His phone vibrated against his leg and he took it out of his pocket, staring at the screen as if he’d never seen it before.

Scott

He had no idea what he’d say to him. So he turned it off and tossed it onto the passenger seat before climbing out of the jeep and stumbling towards the house on trembling legs. It took four tries before he managed to get his key into the lock and half-step/half-fall through the door. 

Peter Hale was out there. He knew where he went to school, he knew where he played Lacrosse…Did he know where he lived too? He put on the chain and deadbolt just in case, before dragging himself upstairs.

 

In his room, he kicked off his boots and peeled off his sweat-soaked Lacrosse uniform, before finally slipping off his underwear. He opened his wardrobe, and stood staring at his naked body reflected in the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of the door. 

His body…It had always seemed an alien thing to him. Other people seemed to know so much more about it than him-The doctors, the nurses, the experts on television. He’d never really felt that it even belonged to him, but to them. So many people had touched it, poked and prodded it...hurt it-The Doctors, the Nurses…Peter Hale. And he’d never really been allowed a say on what happened to it. Somehow, he doubted that would change any time soon. 

He watched his reflection as he reached down to slide a hand over his stomach, over the swelling there, small but unmistakable, and firm to the touch.  
He’d spent two months trying to forget what Peter had done to him in the woods that night, trying to block it out and deny to himself that it had ever happened…

…But there was no denying this.


	5. Chapter Five-Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles confides in Scott...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.k, warnings...This chapter contains descriptions of rape and child abuse, as well as descriptions of a medical examination. Thank you so look much to all of you who took the time to read and leave kudos and comments! You are amazing! Please leave me more to let me know what you think!

Chapter Five-Speak.

 

He stood staring at himself in the mirror. Could it be..? Was he..? The very thought caused him to break out in a cold sweat. He stared at the new fullness of his stomach, struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat. If…if there really was something IN there, growing, then surely he’d feel it? But then recently he’d been so ill. He was sixteen, only sixteen. He was a kid. Until two months ago his biggest problems had been working out how to make Lydia Martin fall in love with him and not failing Math. He didn’t have money, or a job, or a home of his own. He couldn’t do this, he didn’t know how…

He couldn’t have a baby.

He was so afraid. He knew that if he was then he was running out of time. Soon he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore. He had to tell someone- just not his father, not yet. He needed someone who would act as a buffer between them, maybe even help him to explain. 

He threw on some sweatpants and a T-shirt before running out of the room, back down the stairs and out to his jeep. He turned the keys in the ignition and as the engine roared to life the radio automatically clicked on.

“More protestors flocked to Capital Hill today as The Supreme Court ruled the proposal of a Carrier register and sterilisation programme to be a breach of human rights, with many…”

He slammed the button off with his palm-He didn’t need that shit right now. The screen of his cell phone flashed from the passenger seat and he snatched it up, hitting speed dial with trembling fingers. 

“Stiles?!” Scott’s voice, furious. “Stiles, what the fuck was that?! I’ve been calling for, like, an hour! Where the hell did you go? Coach was freaking out!”  
He ignored him. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah, why? Where are you? Stiles, what the hell is going on? You just flipped out…”

“I’m coming over.” 

He hung up without waiting for Scott’s reply and hit the gas. 

 

Scott met him at the door, wrenching it open before he even had the chance to knock. 

“Stiles, what the fuck-“ 

“Look, Scott…I-I have to…” He looked up into his friend’s face and the words died on his lips. Scott’s left eye was swollen; the skin around it bruised purple. “Dude, what happened to your eye?”

“You, Stiles. You happened.” Scott was visibly fighting to keep himself calm. “You flipped out on the field and started acting batshit crazy. I tried to calm you down and you punched me in the face!”

Stiles gaped at him in shock. “Shit, I-I’m so sorry. I don’t remember…”

“I’m not surprised!” Scott threw his arms wide, exasperated. “You were literally out of your goddamn mind! It was like you were having some sort of fucking breakdown! Then you just ran off! Stiles, what the hell happened back there?!”

He bit his lip. For a few moments they just stood on the doorstep staring at each other while he tried to find the words.

“Well?”

He took a deep breath. “I-I’m in deep shit Scott. And I don’t know how to get out of it, or even if I can get out of it. I need your help.”

Scott’s eyes searched his face, softening as he saw the sheer terror there.

“I guess you’d better come in then.” He stepped aside to let him past.

 

Up in his room, Scott sat on the bed and watched as Stiles paced the carpet, trying to get it all into some kind of order in his head. 

“Look, whatever it is, you’re better just sayin’ it. If you won’t tell me, I can’t help you. No matter what it is, I won’t freak out-I promise.” Stiles wasn’t so sure about that. “You’re my best friend.” But would he be his best friend for much longer?

“It’s-it’s a lot…”

“That’s fine. I’ve got all night.”

Stiles swallowed and turned to face his curious stare. “Right…O.k…See, I-I kind of have this medical condition…”

“Yeah, I know; ADHD. That’s why you have to take Adderall.”

“No, not the ADHD...I-I was born with the C919394 gene. Scott….I’m a Carrier.”

Scott gaped at him, eyes wide with shock. “You-you’re a Carrier?! And, you only found this out?!”

Stiles shook his head. “No, not exactly. My parents told me when I was eight.”

“So you knew all this time, and you didn’t tell me?” Scott stood, turning to glare at the wall, and reached up to run a shaking hand through his hair. 

Stiles stared at his back. “It-it wasn’t like that. My parents didn’t want anyone to know. They were just trying to protect me. And then I just…we got older and I guess I got embarrassed; I didn’t know how to say it. And I didn’t know how you’d react, if you’d even want to be my friend anymore. And I was scared, Scott! In case you haven’t noticed, there are a lot of people out there who aren’t exactly fans of guys like me, who want guys like me dead! So…so it just became this family secret.”

Scott kept his back to him. “You’re a Carrier! JESUS CHRIST!”

Somehow it was easier talking to his back. Stiles lowered his gaze to his trembling hands. “T-there’s more…Do-do you remember the night of the Full Moon party?”

“You mean the night you got so drunk you drove off and left me and Allison to walk five miles home?”

“Yeah, well…That’s-that’s not exactly what happened.”

“So what did happen?”

How to word it? He began playing nervously with his fingers. “Lydia and Jackson-They had this fight. Lydia was upset. She ran off into the woods, and I went after her. I-I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t listen. She went back to Jackson and…and I met Peter Hale. In the woods.”

“Peter Hale-He was watching us practice today.”

“Yeah, yeah he was. When-when we were…He jumped me, in the woods. He-he got me down on the ground, started punching me. I fought like hell, I swear to God, I fought him so hard, but he was so fucking strong. He just wouldn’t get off me! He held me down, I tried to shout for help but he covered my mouth…I didn’t want to Scott, I’m not gay! You know that! I swear I didn’t want to! I-I didn’t even know what he was doing until he started pulling at my jeans…”

He looked up to find Scott watching him now, a concerned suspicion in his dark eyes. 

“Stiles…What did Peter do to you?”

He bit back a sob…And then it just came out. 

“He raped me.” 

Scott let out a strangled gasp. “He raped you?”

What he said next came out in a panicked, jumbled mess. “I-I didn’t want to Scott! I swear! He made me! And I’m not lying! I’m not making this up! Scott please, you’ve got to believe me!”

For a moment his best friend’s expression was unreadable…

…Then he was flinging his arms around him, pulling him close to his chest in a hug. “Of course I believe you. Oh my God, Stiles! I’m going to fucking kill him!”

Stiles buried his face in his shoulder to hide his tears of relief. “I-I went to find you after he let me go, but you and Allison…You were kissing. I-I didn’t want to ruin it. I’m sorry I left you.”

“Forget it.” Scott pulled away and steered him until they were both sitting on his bed. He kept a protective arm around his shoulder. “What about you? Are you alright?” Stiles slumped forward and put his head in his hands. “Sorry…of course you’re not alright.”

“No,” Stiles wiped a hand over his face. “No Scotty, I’m far from alright,” He looked up at him. “Because that isn’t even the worst part. Do you remember that medical condition I told you about earlier?”

“Yeah-yeah, you’re a…” He watched Scott’s expression change from confusion to shock as realisation dawned. “Wait, are you saying..?”

He nodded grimly. “I think I might be pregnant.”

They sat in silence, while Scott visibly struggled to take it all in. “So, he didn’t use a...?”

“No. I guess he didn’t think it would be a possibility. After all, he raped a boy, not a girl.”

“But-but why do you think you could be..?”

Stile sighed and licked his dry lips. He suddenly felt so tired. “I’m exhausted all the time. I feel nauseous, especially in the mornings, and some smells make it worse. My back and my stomach really hurt and I haven’t…” He shot Scott an embarrassed look. “I haven’t bled since it happened.” 

“Bled? Oh…OH!” Scott’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, you have periods?”

Stiles nodded. “I used to. But they’ve stopped. And then there’s this…It’s almost like it appeared overnight.” He lifted the hem of his T-shirt to reveal the swelling beneath. “Tell me you see it. Tell me I’m not losing my mind.”

“T-that could just be gas.” But Scott’s voice wavered uncertainly.

“It’s hard.”

“So…so how do you find out for sure? Do you just pee on a test like a girl does or-?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

They stared at each other.

From downstairs came the sound of a door slamming.

“SCOTT? HONEY, ARE YOU HOME?!”

Scott jumped to his feet and Stiles reached for his arm, panicked. “Scott, no!”

“You need to know for sure. And Mom’s a nurse. She can help.”

Stiles knew he was right. He released him and watched him run from the room before huddling on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. He could hear their muffled conversation echoing up from the hallway, then footsteps climbing the stairs.

The door creaked open softly and Scott’s mom came to sit down on the bed bedside him, reaching out a hand to gently stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. The tenderness of her touch seemed to fill a void he’d long ago learned to ignore and he sank back into it. When she spoke, he tone was calm and caring.

“Hi Honey. Scott told me that something really horrible happened to you- that someone hurt you in a way no one should ever be hurt-and as if that wasn’t enough, they may have left you in a really frightening situation.” 

Tears stung his eyes and he nodded, biting back a sob. “Yeah. Melissa, just don’t tell me everything’s going to be alright when we both know it might not be.”

She shook her head. “I won’t. But there are a few things we need to do. First of all, we need to get you to the hospital. Then we need to contact the police…”

“What?” He looked up at her in fright. “No! He said…”

“I bet he said a lot of horrible things to frighten you into keeping quiet, but I promise he’s not getting anywhere near you.”

“He said he’d hurt Lydia…Lydia Martin. He saw me with her. He knows…He knows I like her.”

“Well he’s not getting anywhere near her either. But he needs to be punished for what he did. He can’t be allowed to get away with it. And you do know that I’m going to have to phone your dad, right?” 

He nodded again. “I know. D-do you think he’ll be mad?”

She reached to stroke his cheek. “Not at you, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He knew it, deep down he knew it, but hearing her say it made him want to cry. “Now come on. Let’s get you to hospital. I’ll call your dad on the way.”

 

************************

 

He was back in that examination room, having been smuggled in with a bedsheet over his head, sitting on that same couch waiting to be poked and prodded. He knew he should probably have been crying, but he just felt numb. Unlike with his usual appointments, there was no comforting smile from Dr Stevens, no jokes. Instead the old Doctor looked tired as he approached the couch…and incredibly sad. 

“O.k Stiles, apart from the obvious, did he hurt you in any way?”

Stiles nodded. “He punched me a couple of times. When I fell, I cut my face. I had other cuts and bruises, but it’s all healed now.”

“And what about the clothes you were wearing that night?”

“I tossed them out. I’m sorry. I-I know that was a stupid thing to do. I showered as well…I know I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s totally understandable. After the attack…Was there bleeding?”

He avoided the old man’s gaze, feeling his cheeks start to burn. “Yeah. A bit.”

“Hey, Kiddo.” Dr Stevens touched his arm gently. When Stiles looked up he saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I know this is hard. And I know this is the last place you want to be.”

“It isn’t personal, Doc.”

The doctor managed a chuckle at that. “I know that too. Now, I’m going to do two separate examinations. One will be an internal exam to collect any evidence of the rape; and one will be an external scan to see if there is a pregnancy and how far along it may be. I promise I won’t hurt you during either one and you can have someone in with you during either or both-Your father is on his way so you might want to wait for him. Do you understand?” He nodded. “Now, which one would you like me to do first?”

What a choice. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak…

Suddenly the sound of an argument erupted form the hallway, voices screaming at each other.

“WHERE IS HE?”

“NOAH, YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE LIKE THIS! YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN!”

“CALM?! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE CALM?! WHERE IS HE? I WANT TO SEE MY SON!” Suddenly the door flew open and his father marched in, Scott’s mother hurrying after him. 

“NOAH, WAIT!”

“Sheriff Stilinski I don’t think you should be in here until you’ve gotten control of yourself.” Dr Stevens tried to stop him, but was brushed aside. Stiles father came to stand by the couch, towering over him, his cheeks flushed an angry red and murder in his eyes. Instinctively, Stiles shrank away from him, wondering if he was in trouble.

“Dad…”

“Who did it?”

“W-what?”

“WHO DID IT?!” His yell made Stiles flinch. “Tell me who did this to you and I’ll hunt them down!” He spoke through gritted teeth, his tone dangerous. Stiles had never seen him this angry before. It frightened him.

“P-Peter Hale. It was Peter Hale.” 

“Peter Hale. That sick, perverted bastard! I’m going to fucking kill him!” He turned to Dr Stevens. “Doc, if there’s a baby in there I want you to cut it out. My son’s not going to have that pervert’s kid!” 

“Dad, wait! Don’t go!”

But he ignored him, spinning on his heel and stalking toward the door, only for Scott’s mother to throw herself in front of him. 

“Noah, stop! Think! You’re upset right now. If you go after him and you find him, you could end up doing something really stupid! You’d lose your job! You need to think of Stiles! He needs you!”

“I am thinking of Stiles! HE RAPED MY KID MELISSA! THAT SON OF A BITCH RAPED MY KID!” 

He shoved past her and marched out into the hallway. She hurried after him. “NOAH, WAIT!”

Stiles and Dr Stevens watched them go.

“Is-is he mad at me?”

Dr Stevens turned back to him, shaking his head wearily, and reached to lay a hand on his shoulder. “No, Stiles. He’s mad at the man who hurt his child. He’s just very upset right now. But he’ll calm down, and he’ll be back.”

“I wanted him to be here.” His voice sounded small, even to him.

“Well, I’m here.”

They both turned.

Scott stood nervously in the doorway, twisting his jacket in his hands. “I could stay with you. I mean, if you want me to.”

Dr Stevens glanced at him. “Would you be comfortable with that Stiles?”

He was more than comfortable with it…He was touched. He nodded at Scott. “Sure. But I need you to stay by my head. And I should warn you, I’m naked beneath this gown.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Dude, we used to have baths together as kids. There’s nothing you’ve got that I don’t know about-on the outside anyway.” He moved to stand by the couch as Melissa came back into the room.

“I’ve got him corralled in the waiting room.” 

“Good.” Dr Stevens turned back to Stiles. “So Stiles, what do you want us to do first?”

Suddenly his heart was pounding like a frightened rabbits. He swallowed. “The internal. I want to get it out of the way… Just one thing?”

“Yes?”

“Is-is there any way we could do it without the stirrups? I don’t think I could take that.” 

The old man nodded. “Sure. If you could just lie down and roll onto your left side for me please?” He did so, rolling over to face Scott and pressing his cheek into the pillow. “Now bend your right knee and move that leg forward…That’s it. Now, I’m going to be reporting my findings to Melissa for her to record. It’s nothing for you to worry about. Ready?”

“Yep.” 

“Deep breath in…”

And then suddenly Scott was crouching down in front of him, squeezing his hand. “Look at me man, just keep looking at me. Hey, do you know I still haven’t seen Star Wars?”

“Are you serious?! Why not?...Ahh!” He winced in pain. From behind him came Dr Stevens’ voice.

“Scarring present in the outer perennial tissue. Hymen is torn. Scarring of the birth canal tissue in the ten and two position…”

Scott squeezed his hand tighter. “Hey Stiles, just look at me. Why should I see Star Wars? Come on, tell me.”

He tried to forget what was happening and just concentrate on Scott. “Because it’s a classic; Because Hans Solo is literally the coolest guy ever shown on screen; because there’s Princess Leia in a gold bikini...OW!”

“Why else?”

“Ah, shit! So I won’t keep bitching at you to watch Star Wars!”

“All done.” The speculum was removed and from behind him came the welcome sound of Dr Stevens removing his gloves with a snap. Scott smiled at him.

“You did great, man.” 

Then Dr Stevens’ hand landed on his shoulder and his heart sank as he realised that the next test was the one that could determine his life, if not forever, then for the foreseeable future. 

“Stiles, if you could roll over and sit up for me please?” He did so and Melissa moved behind him to raise the back of the couch. “Stiles, normally I would not have this discussion with you without a parent present but- as I feel having your father here would just create additional trauma and, in any case, he has already made his views on the situation clear- I have asked Melissa to stand in as your guardian. Is that alright by you?” He nodded. “Now, if we do find that you are pregnant there are a few options to consider…”

He shook his head firmly. “I don’t want to consider anything. I’m sixteen. I’m too young to be a dad. If I have it then everyone will know what I am. And he raped me… I’m not having HIS baby. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to give birth and I don’t want to find out. If I’m pregnant, I want an abortion. I’m not going to change my mind. I just want you to get rid of it so I can get on with my life and forget all this ever happened.” 

He expected them to argue with him. But instead Dr Stevens nodded. “Alright. Well, if that’s an option then that’s what we’ll do. Nurse McCall, if you could get the sonogram for me please? Now, lift your gown for me Stiles.” 

He do so and then lay back, lifting his arms above his head and surrendering to them again as if he had any other choice. The gel was cool on his skin. He didn’t want to look. Instead he turned his gaze to that familiar ceiling, the ceiling he’d stared at so many times before, counting the cracks as the doctors and nurses had peered between his legs and cranked his insides open, violating him with their metal instruments. He gritted his teeth and prayed there would be nothing there. Then he could just go home and get on with his life. 

“Right, let’s have a look…” The ultrasound scanner was pressed firmly to his stomach. 

There was a crackling noise and then a strange pulsing sound seemed to fill the room. Startled, he turned to look at Scott who looked just as alarmed.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Scott shrugged and shook his head. He turned to Dr Stevens and Melissa, but they both had their backs to him, staring at the monitor. 

“Stiles…Tell me. How long ago was the party at which you were attacked?”

“About two months ago, Doc. Why?”

“Two months ago.”

“Yeah, I guess…I mean, give or take a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks… Scott, could you do me a favour and go fetch Sheriff Stilinski from the waiting room please?”

“Um, sure.” Scott shot him a worried look before leaving. 

“So…Is…Is there a baby in there?” When they both turned back to him he could tell just by the looks on their faces. “Oh…Oh God.”

“What’s going on?” His father appeared in the doorway. 

Dr Stevens and Melissa moved to join him, and the three adults huddled together for several minutes whispering-Talking about him as if he wasn’t there. It was infuriating. He sat up and waved his arms at them. 

“HEY! HEY, REMEMBER ME?! THE KID ALL THIS IS HAPPENING TO?” They all turned to look at him. “IT’S MY BODY! THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON WITH IT!” 

They shot each other worried looks and then walked back towards him. His father moved to his side, wrapping his arms around him, while Dr Stevens and Melissa stood at the foot of the bed. 

“I’m pregnant, aren’t I?” Dr Stevens nodded sadly and his father pulled him close. “O.k, so what do we do next?”

The doctor sighed. “Stiles, what do you know about Carrier pregnancies?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, really. I never thought it would come up, y’know?”

“Right, well I’m sure that you know that the gestation period for a female human pregnancy is around nine months?” He nodded. “Well, for a Carrier it’s shorter-around six. And you seem to be a bit further along than we thought…”

At his words, Stiles felt himself grow cold. “What are you saying Doc?”

“For you, the window for a medical abortion is very short-in fact, it’s already passed. And I am afraid that, because of the position of the foetus in the body, a surgical abortion is an extremely difficult and risky operation-We’re talking severe haemorrhage, damage to internal organs, spinal cord damage including paralysis-None of these are risks I’m willing to take.” 

“So-so I’m stuck like this?” Suddenly he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The room seemed to be spinning out of focus. He couldn’t breathe. His fathers’ arms tightened around him and he struggled against them. “No! No, you have to do something! You can’t leave me like this! PLEASE, DOC, CUT IT OUT! JUST GET IT OUT OF ME! CUT IT OUT! DON’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS! DOC, PLEASE!”

“Easy, son. Take it easy.” His father pulled him close, his big hand closing over his cheek and guiding his head beneath his chin as he screamed.

“I DON’T WANT IT! I DON’T WANT IT! HE MADE ME! THIS ISN’T FAIR! I’D RATHER BE PARALYSED THAN HAVE IT! I’D RATHER DIE THAN HAVE IT! DOC, PLEASE! I CAN’T HAVE A BABY!”

“I’m so sorry.” Dr Stevens turned away, avoiding his pleading stare. 

“Shhh, shhh. It’s o.k, baby, it’ll be o.k.” 

“HOW?!”

And his father didn’t have an answer for that. Instead he held him tight, ignoring his struggles, rocking him back and forth, his face pressed into his hair, whispering comforting nothings as he wiped his tears from his cheek with his fingers…Just like he’d done the day his mother had died. 

Soon Stiles sobs eased to hiccups and then to nothing, and he slumped against him, too frightened and shocked to move. He felt both numb and in complete freefall all at once. Every time his hand brushed against his stomach he fancied he could feel that…that THING…growing inside him like a ticking time bomb, and all he wanted to do was scream and scream. With a resigned sigh, his father took charge of the situation. 

“Right, well I guess we’d better be getting home. Come on, Stiles. Get dressed.” His tone was calm but firm-Indicating that this was the end of the matter.

He climbed from the couch on trembling legs and reached for his clothes. Melissa was standing slightly turned away from him, facing the curtain and shielding her face with the clipboard she was holding. It took him a few minutes to realise that she was crying.

 

Back home, he and his father sat silently at opposite ends of the kitchen table, each unsure what to say to the other. Finally his father stood with a sigh, went to the kitchen cabinet and drew out a glass tumbler and a bottle full of whiskey. He sat back down, unscrewed the cap and went to pour himself a drink.

“Please don’t.”

He paused, the bottle tilted in mid-air, and looked up at him. Stiles looked down at his hands where they rested on the table. “Dad, I’m sorry.”

His father frowned. “What?”

“I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass. I’m sorry for putting you through all this.”

He shook his head. “Oh no, Stiles…no…”

“I’m sorry for lying to you and going to that stupid party, I’m sorry for getting drunk...” Tears began to blur his vision but he kept going. “I-I’m sorry for not fighting him off. I know I should have fought harder. I’m sorry I got pregnant.”

“Stiles…”

“I’m sorry for being born a Carrier…A freak…I know that you’ve found it hard to handle, that all you wanted was a normal son and then I came along…”

“Stiles, that’s not true…”

He looked up through his tears to where his father was watching him, his lined face twisting with grief. “I’m sorry…But, I didn’t ask for this Dad-I didn’t ask for any of this! And I’m afraid, Dad! I’m so afraid!” 

Unable to stop himself, he started to sob. And then his father was kneeling in front of him, pulling him into his arms and stroking his hair as he cried into his shoulder. “Shhh, Shhh…I’m the one who’s sorry. None of this is your fault, none of this. I think you tried to tell me that night, right?” He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. “But I wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry if I EVER made you think that I loved you any less because of your condition. Stiles, I knew your mother was a Carrier when I married her. I knew that any son we had could have the condition-but, selfishly, I deluded myself that it would all be o.k. I never considered the reality; I never considered the impact on you. Your mother was more practical. When we had you tested as a baby and it came up positive-I guess I figured she’d deal with it all when the time came.”

“Because it’s ‘woman’s stuff’, right?” Stiles pulled away from him and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “It makes you uncomfortable? Well, imagine how uncomfortable it makes me. The BOY all this GIRL stuff is happening to.” 

His father sighed . “I got that wrong. It’s YOUR stuff. I obviously didn’t handle things well, and that’s on me. But the truth is, my life only started to have meaning the day you were born. You were prefect then, and you’re perfect now. I know you’re afraid, but I’ve got you.”

Stiles felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes again. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this! I don’t know how I’m going to have a baby, Dad!”

His father reached across the table to take his chin in his hand, tilting it upward so he could look into his face. “We’ll figure this out, Son. We will. You and me.”

Stiles couldn’t see how, but for the moment it was enough to know he wasn’t alone.

 

************************

 

The next morning, he woke with his stomach lurching and had to run to the toilet to vomit. He dressed quickly and stumbled down to the kitchen, where his father was already leaning against the counter drinking coffee. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

He tugged out a chair and sat, putting his head in his hands. “Not really.” How could he, when this-this thing-was growing inside him like a cancer? 

“I heard you being sick. Here.” His father sat down beside him and pushed a steaming mug towards him. “Drink this.” 

He peered at the yellow liquid inside. “What is it?”

“Ginger tea. Your mother drank pints of it when she was pregnant with you.”

“Oh, thanks.” He took a sip. It didn’t taste great, but immediately the churning in his stomach seemed to ease.

“Look, I was thinking that perhaps we should start looking into adoption agencies.”

“Yeah, yeah we should.” 

“Stiles, look at me.” He looked up to find his father watching him with kind eyes. “I know you’re still scared, but you know what’s the best way to stop being afraid?” He shook his head. “To get angry. Stiles, you should know, Peter Hale…What he did to you…He’s done it before.”

Stiles stared at him, shocked. “What?!”

“Yes. Two other boys here in Beacon Hills. He was arrested, put away for four years. And then that sick bastard had the balls to come back here and do it again. He dared to touch you, hurt you like that, had the arrogance to think that he could rape you and then intimidate you into keeping quiet. The Stiles I know wouldn’t have put up with that bullshit. You’ve never let anyone push you around.” 

That was true. He took another sip of the tea. “So what do you think I should I do?”

“I want you to come down to the station with me and file a report so we can go after him. Do you think you’d be up for that?” 

Stiles slid his hand down over the bump that strained against his waistband, over the parasite that was already wrecking his life, the parasite that Peter Hale had put inside him without his consent. He drained his mug and stood. 

“Let’s go.”

 

**********************

 

He’d known Tara, his father’s deputy, since he was ten, so it seemed strange to suddenly see her as a police officer rather than a family friend. She led him into the interview room and gestured for him to sit down.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’d love a coffee.” She glanced pointedly at his stomach and he rolled his eyes. “Christ Tara, its Caffeine-not Heroin! The thing will be fine.” 

She frowned but still left, only to return with two lukewarm paper cups full of weak coffee. He took a gulp as she sat down opposite him and set a tape recorder carefully between them. “So, what do I do?”

“Just tell me what happened. Try to stick to the facts, and answer any questions I may ask you honestly. Can you do that for me, Stiles?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She reached for the tape-recorder, her finger hovering over the record button. “You ready?” He nodded and she pressed it. “Interview commencing 16th November at 11:30 am. Stiles, can you tell me where you were on the night of 10th September?”

“I went to a Full Moon party in the woods out by Fallow Creek.”

“And who did you go with?”

“I went with my friend Scott McCall and his girlfriend Alison Argent.”

“And were there a lot of people there?”

“Yeah, most of the school…It’s, like, this really big thing.”

“Alright. So what happened while you were at the party?”

He glanced at her and she nodded encouragingly. “Ok, well at around eleven I’d gone to get a drink when I spotted this guy from school-Jackson-dancing with a girl who wasn’t his girlfriend. His girlfriend Lydia Martin, who’s-who’s a friend of mine-saw them and got angry. She and Jackson had this big fight and Lydia ran off into the woods. I was worried about her being out in the woods on her own so I went after her.”

“And then what happened?”

“She was crying. We talked. Then she went back to the party. That’s when Peter appeared.”

“Peter Hale?”

“Yep.”

“What do you mean, ‘appeared’?”

Stile shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what it was like; he just appeared out of the trees and stood beside me.”

“Out of the trees…Like, maybe, he’d been there a while watching the party?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“And did he talk to you?”

He lowered his gaze to his coffee. “Yeah. He told me he’d seen me and Lydia’s whole conversation-that bitches didn’t know what they wanted. He told me he bet I’d been hoping to get laid. He told me I was a good kid for going after her. I had a bottle of Jack and he asked for a drink. I gave him the bottle and made to go back to the party.”

“And then what happened?”

He began to pick the rim of the Styrofoam cup apart with his fingers. “He kind of dived on me. He knocked me onto the ground. Then he punched me twice in the back of the head. I kept trying to fight him off and get up but he pinned me down. At one point he twisted my arm behind my back to get me to be still.”

“And while all this was happening, did you cry out, shout for help?”

“I kept saying no, yelling at him to stop, to let me go, to get off me, but then he put his hand over my mouth. He-he said, ‘what’s the matter kid? I thought you wanted to get laid.’ Then he knelt on me and pulled my jeans and boxers down. He ripped my jeans. He grabbed my hands and held them behind my back…And that’s when he did it. That’s when he raped me.”

Tara was silent. For a moment she seemed to stop being a cop, and instead became again the former middle-school teacher who used to mind him behind the front desk and help him with his homework while his father was on late shift. She looked so sad. Then she took a deep breath and became the Sheriff’s deputy again. 

“And what happened after that?”

“He-he got up, he looked down at me and he smiled. The sick fuck smiled. Wait, I think-I think he took a picture.”

“Like on a cell-phone?”

“Yeah.” He felt sick at the thought of it. “There was a flash.”

“And then what happened?”

“I-I got dressed and then he grabbed me. He said I needed something to make me stop shaking. He made me drink the rest of the Jack and then he said that if I told anyone what happened he’d rip my throat out and then he’d go after Lydia. Then he let me go.”

“And where did you go?”

“I went back to the party, but when I found Scott and Alison they were kissing and-and I didn’t know what to say so I just went home.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone what happened?”

“No…I was embarrassed. And scared.”

She nodded. “And you’d never met Peter Hale before that night?”

“No. I mean-I knew who he was. He’s kind of notorious around here for doing crazy stuff, but I’d never talked to him or anything.”

“You said he made you drink the rest of the bottle of Jack Daniels. Had you been drinking before that?”

“Yeah, it was a party.”

“How much?”

He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “Um, I don’t know-four beers, a couple of shots of Jack…”

“Would you say you were drunk?”

“Why? Does it matter?”

“I have to ask…”

“What? Like maybe because I was drinking I asked for it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Stiles.”

He scowled at her. “Yeah, yeah I was a little drunk. But I wasn’t falling down drunk or anything. I know exactly what he did to me.”

“O.k.” Then her cheeks flushed red. “And you haven’t had any sexual relationships before this?”

“No. I was a virgin.”

She looked wretched. “No-no girlfriends…or boyfriends?”

He gawped at her, mortified. “What the fuck, Tara? Why are you asking me this? I’m straight! Not that it even matters anyway…”

“It matters to a jury.”

“Well it shouldn’t.”

“Interview paused 11:45.” She clicked the tape recorder off with a world-weary sigh. “I know it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter if you’re gay or not, if you’re a virgin or not, if you were drunk or sober…But if this goes to trial and you have to testify, this is the sort of thing the defence could ask you about. I just want to prepare you and get your answers on tape…And,” she added, almost as an after-thought. “Don’t swear at me again. You’re not too big for me to kick your butt, kiddo.”

“Sorry.”

She clicked the tape recorder back on. “Interview re-commencing at 11:48 am. So Stiles, when did you find out you were pregnant?”

He swallowed. “Yesterday it was confirmed by a doctor.”

“And you are sure that Peter Hale is the father? You haven’t had sexual intercourse with anyone else since he raped you?”

“No. And yes, I’m sure.”

“O.k, interview terminated at 11:55 am.” She turned off the tape recorder. “You did great, honey.”

“Can I go call Melissa now?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at her to show he wasn’t mad at her, before leaving the interview room and fishing his cell phone from his back pocket. He was half-way towards the exit when he heard the yelling from the front desk.

“I DIDN’T TOUCH ANYBODY! THAT KIDS LYING! THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

“O.K, YOU NEED TO TAKE IT EASY!”

He ducked behind a wall and watched as two officers dragged Peter Hale through the door and across the station to an interview room. At first, the sight of him made his heart flip in his chest, but then he realised…Peter was in handcuffs. He couldn’t hurt him anymore. He stepped out from behind the wall.

Just before they dragged him into the interview room Peter stopped and turned to look across the station. Their eyes met.

This time, Stiles was the one who smiled.

 

****************************

 

Scott and his mother picked Stiles up from the police station and brought him back to their house for dinner. She’d made macaroni cheese because it was Stiles favourite and they ate it in near-silence. Afterwards, unsure of what else to do, they headed up to Scott’s room to play the Play-Station.

As they played, Scott kept shooting glances at Stiles- Funny, sarcastic Stiles, hyperactive and bouncy as Tigger, always by his side, always leading the way into trouble with that goofy grin plastered across his face. Since that day in Kindergarten he barely had a memory that didn’t have Stiles in it somewhere. To say they lived in each others pockets would have been an understatement-Stiles even had his own key to their house. They’d had sleepovers, went to the pool and the beach, they told each other everything-How could he not have known about all this? But Stiles had hidden it so well behind his jokes and smiles-Scott had never even had an inkling that something was wrong. Somehow he felt like he’d let him down. Suddenly Stiles tossed his controller aside and turned to him.

“O.k, fine-Ask me. Go on, ask me!”

“Ask you what?”

“Whatever the hell it is you want to ask me. Come on Scott, you’ve been staring at me for the last two hours like you’ve never seen me before, so whatever it is, just ask me and we can talk about it. And quit looking at me like that-I get it, I really do, it’s not every day you find out your best friend’s a knocked-up mutant-but it’s freaking me out. So ask me. Ask me anything.”

He thought about it. “Being a Carrier-What’s it like?”

“Physically or emotionally or-?”

“Both. I mean, it doesn’t freak me out. It’s just you; you’re still my best friend. I just want to understand.”

Stiles considered the question. “Well, physically…When I was little I didn’t feel anything, really. I didn’t feel anything until I was twelve or thirteen. Then the hormones kicked in and I just felt, like, angry and agitated all the time. Then when I was thirteen my periods started.”

Scott was filled with a morbid fascination. It was normally something that girls kept a closely guarded secret. He’d always wondered. “What was that like?”

Stiles shrugged. “Gross. I was watching a baseball game on TV with dad. My stomach got really sore so I got up and there was blood all over the seat cushion. My dad freaked out. We had to get a new couch.”

“Oh. So they hurt?”

“Yeah, man-they kill-My back, my stomach…And, just before they start, my balls too. And they get messy. I was so scared I’d get it at school.”

“So, what do you do about them? I mean…Do you use…Tampons or…God this is so weird!” He went red and Stiles burst out laughing.

“Nah, man. I’ve nowhere to put them! The Doc gives me these special pads and I just don’t go to school on period days.”

“So…You-you don’t have a vagina?”

“No! Why, do you?”

“No!” 

Suddenly they were in fits of giggles. Finally Stiles calmed down enough to speak. “No, I have-it’s like this tube of muscle. But it’s not open like a vagina. It’s closed most of the time; just open a bit to let blood pass through.”

“Where is it?”

“Round the back.”

“Oh…makes sense.”

“Scotty, none of this makes sense!”

“I KNOW!” And then they were laughing again. “So-so can you feel it?”

“Sometimes. When it opens up.”

O.k, that was weird. “Opens? When does it open?”

It was Stiles’ turn to blush. “Usually when I get hard or jerk off. Or if I’m stressed out or upset. I’m a teenager, though, so it’s a bit like my dick-It has a mind of its own.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Like…a pop sort of feeling. That’s what everyone calls it-they say it’s ‘popping’. It doesn’t hurt; it’s just a bit weird. But I can still walk and stuff; I just can’t go to the bathroom because it sort of…opens out over that bit.”

“Oh…Gross.” 

Stiles smiled. “Normally I just ignore it and it closes again.”

“And you have a womb.”

At that, Stiles’ smile faded and he grew sad. His hand moved to his stomach. “Yeah, sort of…Being a Carrier is shit, Scott. It really sucks.”

Scott decided to change the subject. “So, all those appointments were with Doctor Stevens and my Mom?”

Stiles nodded, turning his attention to the carpet where they sat and tracing patterns in it with the tips of his fingers. “Yeah. Dr Stevens is one of the few doctors I trust. Any time I’ve had anyone else it…It hasn’t worked out.”

“How come?”

“As far as I know, I’m the only Carrier in the county. They’re all fascinated by me…But they don’t really see me as a kid. It’s like…” He turned to Scott, his eyes searching his face as if deciding if he could be trusted with a secret. “If I tell you about something, you promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Of course I won’t. You know I won’t.” 

“When I was twelve Dr Stevens took a sabbatical for a few months. I had this other doctor-a woman called Dr Harley. I hated her. She was so fake. She talk to me so patronisingly, calling me ‘honey’ and ‘pet’, and then when she was talking to the other doctors and nurses about me all she’d call me was ‘The Subject’ or ‘The Carrier’-She never used my name. Then some fancy publication asked her to write a paper about me. That’s when she started sending the nurses out of the room when she was treating me.” That sounded worrying. Scott turned to look at Stiles, but he was back staring at the carpet. “You saw the stirrups Dr Stevens sometimes uses?”

“Yeah, you put your legs in them.”

“Well Dr Harley had these stirrups she liked to use. They covered my whole legs from the knee down and they had all these straps. They spread my legs really wide and kept them up in the air; I couldn’t move, couldn’t sit up-I just had to lie there. I hated them but I was only twelve-I didn’t know yet that I could say I didn’t want them. She-she’d strap me into them and take pictures for her paper. Again, I didn’t know I could say no.”

“Stiles…”

“It gets worse. Remember what I said-what I said about that ‘pop’?”

Scott’s stomach started to fill with dread. “Yeah.”

“Well, she wanted to see it so she could describe it for her paper-No doctor had ever seen a Carrier do it up close before…But to see it, she had to make it happen.”

“Stiles…What did she do?”

He bit his lip, keeping his gaze firmly on the carpet. “One day she-she told my dad that she wanted to ‘apply manual stimulus to bring about an involuntary muscular response.’ I didn’t know what that meant, and I’m guessing he didn’t either because he signed the consent form…and she started doing it to me.”

Scott’s stomach lurched as he imagined what ‘it’ could be. He had an idea…but no, surely no Doctor would do that?

What Stiles said next confirmed his worst suspicions. “She told me that it wouldn’t hurt, that it might tickle a bit-That I probably already did it to myself anyway. She told me it was a form of treatment. She told me to relax, strapped me into the stirrups…She put on gloves…And then she started touching me. I didn’t like it exactly, but, like I said, I was twelve, so stuff happened anyway. Once she realised that her method worked, she started doing it to me practically every appointment. The minute she sent the nurse away I’d know what was coming. She’d crank me open and put a camera inside me to film the muscle opening while she did it. She actually thought I enjoyed it. She started to talk like it was some sort of treat- ‘Be a brave boy while we do your blood test and later I’ll give you a tickle and we’ll see you pop!’ That was her code for it-‘a tickle’. The nurses had no idea what she was talking about.”

“Did you tell her you didn’t like it?”

He nodded. “She didn’t listen, just told me that she had to do it, and sure, didn’t it feel nice, anyway? One-one time I put my hands over myself and wouldn’t take them off. She got angry-called me ‘a nasty little creature.’ When-when she left the room I thought I’d won. Then she came back with these wrist restraints that attached to either side of the couch. She told me it was her job to treat me, even if I was being difficult. She put them on me, told me if I didn’t behave she’d tell my dad what a bad kid I was. Then she did it to me as usual. When-when I came she patted me on the leg and said, ‘See? You enjoy it really.’ After that, she always used the wrist restraints on me in case I ‘refused treatment’.”

“You mean, tried to stop her molesting you.” Scott turned to look at him and was suddenly struck by how young Stiles seemed, and how vulnerable. “And you never said anything to anyone? To your dad or-?”

Stile shrugged. “How the hell would I have said it? ‘Hey Dad, when you leave me at the hospital Dr Harley straps me to a table and gives me a hand job?!’ I was twelve; I didn’t even know how to put it. Besides, I kind of thought he knew about it. He signed the consent form, remember? I thought she was allowed to. I was so relieved when Dr Stevens came back. The first day, I asked him if he was going to tickle me to make me pop. He looked at me like I was insane.”

“But now…You know that what she did was child abuse, right?”

He raised his gaze and fixed him with reproachful look, arching an eyebrow and waggling a finger at him. “Silly, silly Scott-it’s not child abuse if a doctor does it.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “At least that’s what they seem to think anyway. Then it’s research. I don’t think she got off on it- I was just a body and she’d worked out what button to push to make that body do what she wanted. That’s the worst thing about being a Carrier, see? To a lot of people I’m not a person-I’m just a body with these weird extra parts. And now? Now with this-this fucking thing growing inside of me?” To Scott’s shock he smacked himself in the stomach with both fists. “Well, it’s only going to get worse.”

“You mean your baby?”

To him it was just a statement of fact, but Stiles scowled at him. “Don’t call it that. It feels like something from fucking ‘Alien’!”

“So-so you’re definitely giving it away then?”

He arched an eyebrow at him. “Like I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“You haven’t been listening, have you?” From below them came the sound of the front door opening and muffled voices. Stiles stood and went to the window, peering out into the night. “My dad’s back.” He turned to him. “Come on.”

 

Their parents were talking in the living-room, their voices drifting out through the open door. They sat on the stairs to listen in, Scott on one step and Stiles on the step below.

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs gaming with Scott. I gave him dinner-kept some aside for you, if you want it.”

“Thanks but I’m not hungry.”

“So, what’s happening? I take it you’re prosecuting? Will Stiles have to testify?”

“I don’t think so. We got him, Melissa. We got the sick bastard. Stiles was right-He took a picture. My kid was bleeding on the ground and he took a picture, can you believe that?! Anyway, they seized his lap-top. Seems he’s part of a notorious online paedophile ring known as ‘The Wolf Pack’. The dumb fuck posted the picture along with a blow-by-blow account of what he’d done. It was practically a written confession. That-along with Stiles’ statement-should be enough to put him away, but to be on the safe side they want to take a DNA sample from the foetus to prove he’s the father. Either way, he’s looking at a much longer stretch this time.”

“And you’re going to give the baby up for adoption? Stiles is o.k with that?”

“I think it’s what’s best. He’s a kid Melissa. Kids can’t have kids.”

Scott reached down to wrap his arms around his friend, pulling him close to his chest and whispering into his ear as he hugged him. “There you go, man. It’s over.”

But Stiles shook his head. “No, it’s far from over.” He pointed to the open doorway. The television could just be seen through the gap in the door. It was on mute and seemed to be showing a news channel. Silent crowds swarmed across the screen like ants. “They’re rioting tonight in Washington over Carriers like me. And I’m going to have a baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time...Allison's branch of the FAC react to the High Court's ruling...And she and Stiles get to know each other a bit better.


	6. Chapter Six-Allison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison gets to know Stiles a little better...And Gerard Argent arrives in Beacon Hills with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody and Happy New Year! Hope everyone's Christmas was fun and that Santa was good to you all! So sorry that this chapter is late! I had a really bad chest infection that completely floored me for a bout two weeks and then Christmas happened-Which involves a lot of travelling and family time for me. However, now that is all over here is the new chapter!

Chapter Six-Allison

 

She could taste the anticipation, salty on her tongue, as she stepped toward the target. The gun was heavy in her hand, the metal warm from her skin and slick with her nervous sweat. She was afraid, but she couldn’t show it-They were all watching. So she swallowed down her nerves, raised the muzzle…And pulled the trigger.

The gun jerked and leapt in her palm, sending a bolt of not-quite-pain through her wrist. She felt the vibration in her entire body. A sharp crack sliced through the silence, making her ears ring. In front of her the human-shaped target jerked and vibrated with the force of the hit, the bullet tearing a hole in its right shoulder.

The feeling was nothing less than euphoric.

She stumbled backwards, heart pounding in her chest, any lingering fear suddenly drowned out by the flood of adrenaline pumping through her veins. The intoxicating rush of power made her head spin. She’d always thought that handling something that could end a life so quickly would be terrifying, but no-It was exhilarating. From behind her someone shouted out.

“Hey Allison, what’s it feel like to be a Warrior of God?!”

But she didn’t answer… because this wasn’t at all what it was like to be a Warrior of God…This was what it was like to BE God. 

She took a deep breath and planted her feet firmly into the dirt, before raising the gun again and firing twice more. To her amazement, both shots drilled perfectly through the targets head. From behind her came a low whistle.

“Well, look at that.” Kate appeared at her elbow and together they stared at the bullet holes peppering the target. “You’re a natural. You enjoy it?”

She nodded, struggling to come down from the high. “Yeah. Wow, what a rush!”

Kate chuckled. “I just can’t believe you’ve never fired a gun before! Your father sells the damn things, for Christ’s sake!” 

“He wanted me to hold off learning until I was eighteen. He said it was a big responsibility.”

Kate rolled her eyes at that. “Typical Chris, never any fun-even when we were kids. Thank God your mother has more sense.” She jerked her head to where Allison’s parents stood on the back porch, her mother smiling in approval as she surveyed her own little militia. Her father saw her watching and turned to stare at her and Kate with a look of sad resignation on his face-almost as if he’d lost her. For a split second she felt guilty, felt she’d let him down, then the high from shooting the gun came back and she didn’t care. “The way I see it, we have a responsibility to teach you. After all, we’ll probably be at war soon.”

War-Of course, the US Government had abandoned them, giving them little choice. Allison still didn’t understand why they’d refused to make the Sterilisation Programme compulsory. Stopping the Carriers from having children would solve the problem-How could anyone be against that? It just didn’t make sense to her. 

Together she and Kate turned to watch the others.

The vast yard behind the house had been set up as a makeshift target range. All around them people were practicing shooting-from the elderly…To the probably far too young. As she watched, eight year old Joseph’s father crouched down beside him, molding his sons’ small fingers around the trigger and guiding him toward the target, raising his little arms so he could take aim. Kate followed her gaze.

“These people-these Fags, these Carriers and their sympathisers-they act like they’re all about tolerance, about hippy shit like peace and love, but you know as well as I do that they have an agenda.”

“The Carrier agenda.” Of course she knew about it. Every Sunday they all crowded down to the basement to watch a Livestream of Pastor Anderson’s Sunday Sermon. Lately, he’d talked about nothing else. 

“Exactly. A world were those freaks, those breeding machines, are the norm-the fucking ideal. A place where straight men and women like you and me-women who…can’t…will be seen as nothing but a waste of oxygen. And what about normal boys like Joseph, huh? They’ll be reduced to second class citizens before finally being bred out of existence. We can’t let that happen, Allison. We have to fight back. There are riots already, war’s pretty much inevitable. We need to be able to protect ourselves.” She saw the panic on Allison’s face and reached to squeeze her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “Don’t worry, with aim like that I’m sure you’ll manage to blast a few filthy Carriers’ heads off.” 

Playing God with Carriers…The thought tapped into that same primal bloodlust she’d felt when she’d fired the gun, that need for vengeance she’d felt when told Carriers were responsible for her condition. But there was still that lurch in her stomach, a cold, sinking feeling that something wasn’t quite…Right…about it all, that they’d somehow missed something…

Allison watched as her aunt crossed the yard to where Jonah stood smoking, taking his arm and reaching to take the cigarette from between his lips and place it between her own. Of course they weren’t supposed to fraternize with the opposite sex outside of wedlock- but Kate had never been one to follow the rules. In that way, she’d kind of become an inspiration to her niece. If only she’d picked anyone other than Jonas. 

To start with, Jonas Carville was older than her, in his early forties, and a redneck to boot. He had a scrubby blonde beard and moustache, and his hair was shaved close to his scalp all over except at the crown, from which emerged a greasy blonde rats-tail that coiled down the back of his neck. He didn’t often say much, preferring to observe, but all that he was could be seen in his permanent scowl, in the meanness of his mouth, the way his thin lips receded back from his teeth in a gesture that was somewhere between a smile and a snarl. All that he was could also be seen in his eyes; steel grey and constantly gleaming with icy malice. 

Malice…The word epitomised Jonas Carville and, lately, Kate too. They all believed in the cause, all spoke frequently of their hatred and disgust for the Carriers; but no one spoke with quite as much venom as Kate and Jonas. The depth of their viciousness was only truly revealed after a few forbidden beers. Then they would hold court on the porch outside, sucking furiously on Marlboros as they described in horrific detail what they would do if they ever got hold of a Carrier, riling each other up almost into a frenzy with tales of how they would flay skin and snap bone, punch and kick until the blood flowed, until the wretched thing screamed and wept and begged for mercy that it obviously wouldn’t get from the likes of them. Allison knew that they were warriors, soldiers-But surely soldiers didn’t kill for fun? 

Still, at least Kate HAD a boyfriend.

She reached into her back pocket with her free hand and withdrew her phone, unlocking it quickly with her thumb. No new messages. Scott had missed school on both Thursday and Friday with absolutely no warning or explanation. Over the weekend she’d called him at least ten times, texted him at least twice that. All she’d gotten in exchange was some garbled voicemail about there being an emergency and he’d see her at school on Monday that had left her wondering what the hell she’d done wrong. Was he telling the truth…Or had he simply grown tired of her? Or worse, found someone new? She turned to look around her at her Chapter-Her family. Perhaps he’d somehow found out? But she couldn’t change who she was for him, couldn’t change her beliefs. If only he’d answer his damn phone then she’d know for sure. It was so frustrating…

She turned and emptied the rest of the clip into the target before making her way back towards the house.

 

Once inside, she fetched a tub of ice cream and a spoon from the kitchen and headed toward the den to do some serious moping-only to find her favourite hiding spot already taken by Kate and Jonas, who were making out passionately on the couch. They sprang apart when she entered, looking guilty, only for Kate to sigh and chuckle with relief.

“It’s ok baby, it’s only Allison. She’s cool.” 

“Yes she is.” Jonas watched her intently as she sat down in the armchair opposite them, crossing her legs beneath her. There was something about his stare that made her skin crawl. “I saw you out there. You’re a little badass, aren’t ya? Mommy and Daddy’s little Carrier Killer. Tell me Princess, you think that if push came to shove you could really take one down? Could you kill another human being?”

She wasn’t sure- but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She took a spoonful of ice-cream. 

“That’s a trick question. They’re not human-everyone knows that.”

He chuckled. “Clever girl.”

She couldn’t help but smirk.

“Uh oh.” Kate pointed to the tub. “Ben N Jerry’s Phish Food, the whole tub and only one spoon-It must be serious. What’s up?”

But she didn’t want to discuss it in front of Jonas, so instead she turned to him, asking him something she’d always wondered. “Jonas, have you ever actually seen a Carrier? What are they like?”

Immediately he sat up straighter, assuming an air of authority. “Well, little lady, to the untrained eye they look like real men-that’s how they getcha, see? That’s how they fool ya. But if you’re smart, you can see the signs. They’re, like, effeminate-girly, y’know? Poofy, like the Queers. Their voices are usually higher-pitched and they often have a lisp. They’re usually ugly as sin- ‘cause they’re mutants, y’know?-but that doesn’t stop them fuckin’ around with anything that moves because that’s what they’re hard-wired to do. They’re cocky bastards too, always trying to force themselves on normal men and women…Hell, even kids. Don’t ya know they’re way more likely to be paedophiles and rapists?” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Yep. They’re straight up predators, driven by this insatiable lust. So next time you see an ugly as fuck hipster guy in a club, all skinny jeans, eyeliner and nail varnish, grinding up against anythin’ that moves no matter how much they push him off? You’ll know exactly what he is.”

“Oh, I’ll keep an eye out.” Like her parents would ever let her anywhere near a club. The party in the woods had been the first and only time she’d ever gone out to have fun like a normal teenager, and she still lived in fear of them finding out. She lowered her gaze to her ice cream, which was rapidly melting. “Look, I’m gonna go to my room.” She made to get up, only for Kate to reach out and stop her.

“Hold on.” She turned to Jonas. “Honey, do you mind leaving us alone for a bit? I think Ally’s in need of some girl time.”

His scowl said he minded very much, but he knew better than to argue. “Sure thing, I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

He stood and stomped from the room. Kate came to perch on the arm of the chair, reaching over her to grab the spoon and steal a scoop of ice cream. “So I take it he still hasn’t called?”

“Nope.” Allison took the spoon back and took her own mouthful, struggling to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat. “I just don’t know what I did wrong, y’know?”  
“Did he want you to…y’know?” Kate raised her eyebrows at her and she shook her head.

“No, Scott’s not like that.” He’d always been the perfect gentleman, always treated her as if she was some precious jewel, always kissed her with reverence-Which made his sudden rejection so much more bewildering. “He said he was happy to wait until I was ready.”

“And you guys haven’t had any fights or-?”

“No. What if-what if he found out? About me. About US.”

“And he has a problem with it?” Kate shrugged, taking some more ice cream. “I guess you could talk to him about it…That is, if you think he’s worth the aggravation.”

Allison thought about Scott-sweet, shy, gentle Scott who looked at her with his big brown puppy-dog eyes as if she was something special. In a world that seemed to grow more frightening by the day with the threat of mutants and war and persecution he was her safe haven-the only ‘normal’ thing she’d ever had. “Yeah, he is. But I’m still scared to tell him. What if he freaks out?”

Kate licked the back of the spoon, considering the question. “I guess you could test the waters first, find out if he has any faith. Does he have any friends?”

Scott was introverted, not exactly king of the social scene. “Just this kid, Stiles-the Sheriff’s son. He’s his best friend.”

“What’s he like?”

Allison shrugged. To be honest, she’d never really given Stiles much thought. He’d always just been there, a few steps behind Scott at all times, ready with a sarcastic quip for every occasion. “He’s o.k…Kinda twitchy.”

“Drugs?”

“Hyperactivity.”

“But he likes you?” She nodded. “Then why don’t you go talk to him? If Scott’s religious then his best friend would know-At the very least he might know why he’s ignoring you.”  
She considered this. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

Kate smiled. “Better that than sitting here driving yourself nuts. Do you know where he lives?”

She shook her head. “No, but my friend Lydia does.”

 

 

One phone call and a short trip in Kate’s car later, she was standing on the front porch of a small clap-board house on the outskirts of town. She pressed the bell and the door was answered by a sandy-haired, weary-looking man in sweatpants and a T-shirt. 

“Can I help you?” His voice was gruff, his tone impatient.

Beyond him she could just see a shabby hallway, filled with the dirt and clutter of two males living on their own without a woman’s touch: A work jacket dumped in a heap on the floor, muddy footprints on the carpet leading to a pair of discarded sneakers, a lacrosse stick propped up against the wall. 

“Um, does Stiles Stilinski live here?”

“Who wants to know?”

She bit her lip, suddenly uncomfortable. “Allison Argent. I’m Scott’s girlfriend.”

“Argent, huh? Your father the Chris Argent who’s looking to open the depo?”

Ah the joy of living in a small town. She nodded. “Yeah. Is Stiles home? I just want to talk to him.”

He looked her up and down, as if assessing her. “Hang on.” He closed the door over and she heard shouting.

“STILES!”

“WHAT?!”

“THERE’S A GIRL HERE! SAYS SHE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!”

“LYDIA MARTIN?!” She couldn’t help but giggle at that- Stiles was ever the optimist.

“NO! SHE SAYS SHE’S SCOTT’S GIRLFRIEND! WANT ME TO GET RID OF HER?!”

“HOLD ON, I’M COMING!”

There was the thump of feet running down stairs followed by some muffled whispering…And then suddenly the porch-light above her head went off, plunging her into near-darkness. She let out an involuntary squeak of fright and considered running for it. But then the door opened and Stiles poked his head out.

“Hey Allison, what’s up?” 

“Hi. I-I was wondering if we could talk?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck nervously. “I’m kind of busy right now…”

But she needed to talk to him, needed him to tell her that everything with Scott was fine, that he still loved her. Suddenly she felt her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, oh O.K…I was just wondering if I could talk to you about Scott, but if you can’t then I’ll just go.”

At the sight of her tears, his eyes widened in panic. For a moment he seemed to be struggling with something- then he sighed. “Look, just give me a second, o.k?”

He disappeared back inside and she turned to look out at the deserted street. It was late evening now, the only light coming from the few streetlamps and the waxing moon when it emerged from behind the clouds. It was so quiet, the town’s traffic only a faint hum in the distance. Bats flitted past and the breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that surrounded the town on all sides, always threatening to encroach and swallow it up. Above her an owl hooted. Behind her the door creaked open.

“Hey.” Stiles emerged and moved to lean against the porch railing, seeming to shrink into the shadows. “You alright?” His voice was kind. She sank down onto the steps, sniffling furiously, embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I just-Scott hasn’t been in school and he hasn’t answered my calls and texts…”

“So, what? You think he’s mad at you or something?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Despite her best efforts, some tears spilled down her cheeks and she wiped at them with her sleeve. 

“Oh, jeez…Allison don’t cry! Especially over Scott!” He moved to sit down beside her.

She turned her head to look at him and it suddenly struck her that she’d never actually looked at him before-not really. He’d always just been part of the background. Up close, he was actually quite handsome. Though slender and smaller than Scott, his shoulders were surprisingly broad. His chin was pointed, his jaw angular, and his cheek-bones sharp, giving him a pixie-ish, otherworldly sort of beauty-a changeling from her grandfathers’ old bestiary book. His hair was dark and spikey as a hedgehog’s spines, his huge eyes a striking warm ocre brown. Though seated now on the porch steps he was still moving, twitching, head jerking to watch the moths that flited past, the moon as it emerged from behind the clouds. One leg vibrated constantly. The long fingers of one hand drummed on the step, reached up to trace his full lips, tap his chin. The only thing that wasn’t moving was his other arm. It was wrapped around his stomach almost shyly. He saw her staring at him and jerked his head away, blinking rapidly, embarrassed “Sorry, I haven’t taken my Adderall today.”

“Wow, you really need it don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Somehow close-up he struck her as, not awkward, but wild-A feral thing not sure how to behave in this intimate conversation. He wore grubby sweatpants and a hooded police issue sweatshirt so big that it drowned his thin frame, and she caught herself wondering why his father gave his son his hand-me-downs instead of buying him clothes that actually fit.

“So, Scott hasn’t been answering me. He said something about an emergency but I just can’t help thinking that he might want to break up.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”

She tried to work out how to put it. “Well, well the thing is…my family…We’re kind of religious.”

“What, like, Baptist?”

Close enough. “Sort of. I have to go to church a lot, and my parents are really strict. I was thinking that maybe he found out somehow and it put him off?”

Stiles shrugged, wrapping both arms around his waist and bouncing absent-mindedly on the step. “I doubt it. He hasn’t said anything. Besides Allison, it’s not like it’s a big deal. Loads of people are religious. Loads of people go to church.”

“Not like my family.”

“How’d you mean?” 

And suddenly she couldn’t tell him, suddenly she felt…ashamed? She racked her brain, trying to think of a way of finding some sort of common ground. “Stilinski-That’s Polish, right?” he nodded. “Are you Polish Jews?”

“Yes, originally…But we don’t practice.”

“Do you believe in God?”

He shrugged again, leaning forward to pick at the rubber sole of his sneaker. “No, not really.”

“But Scott told me your mom’s dead. Don’t you want to believe she’s in Heaven?”

At her words he flinched as if he’d been slapped and she wished she hadn’t said anything. He sat up, wrapping his arms around his middle again as if to hold himself together, and fixed his dark eyes on her, his pointed stare making her squirm. “He shouldn’t have told you that. It’s private.” 

“Sorry.” She ducked her head, embarrassed. For a few minutes they sat in awkward silence.

“Did he tell you that I was the only one with her when she died?” She looked up at him in shock, but he was gazing past her to the empty street beyond. “I was ten.”

“No, he didn’t.” It struck her that she’d never known someone who’d died. Her grandmother had passed before she was born, but she had no idea what it must be like to love someone and then lose them like that. Her mother and father had always been such a constant presence in her life that the idea that they could suddenly not be there anymore was inconceivable. 

“If my dad was working I used to go by the hospital after school and just sit with her. I used to get the bus.” His pixie face was expressionless as he stared up at the moon. “She died of Dementia, did Scott tell you that? When she got sick she forgot who I was. For a while she was even scared of me. But by the time she was put in the hospital she wasn’t really all that responsive. She’d just lie there, staring into space. But I still liked sitting talking to her. She was my mom, y’know? So this day I was just sitting with her when suddenly she turned to look at me and she smiled, and I knew-I just knew-that she recognised me. She said what she always used to say when she woke me up for school-She said ‘There’s my baby’. And just for a second, just for a split second, I thought she might be better and that everything would be o.k. Then….Then her eyes went all glassy and she just…stopped. It was like someone had flicked the off switch.” He turned to look at her and she hurriedly blinked away her tears of pity. “So you see; I can’t believe in God. I can’t believe in a God who would give my mom back to me for a split second only to take her away again. I’m sorry if that offends you. I don’t mean it to.”

“It was then that I carried you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

She felt herself blush. “It’s from this poem. When I was little I asked my Dad why God made bad things happen to us, and he said that God doesn’t make the bad things happen-he helps us through them. He told me this story: This guy has a dream where he’s walking along this beach and all these scenes from his life are playing across the sky like a movie. For each scene he sees two sets of footprints in the sand-His and Gods. But he notices that during all the low points in his life, the saddest scenes, there’s only one set of footprints. So he turns to God and he says, “You said you’d walk with me but when all the bad stuff happened there were only one set of footprints. That’s when I needed you most, so why did you leave me?’ And God says to him, ‘I will never leave you. When things got really bad, when you saw only one set of footprints? It was then that I carried you.’ I’m sure God was there, watching over you when your mom died. I know it.”

He gazed past her out at the deserted street. When he next spoke it was in a whisper, barely on the cusp of hearing. “Well where was he when I was in the woods?”

“What?”

Her voice startled him out of his reverie and he shot her a guilty look. “Nothing. Look, Allison, can I ask you something?

“Yeah?”

To her surprise and confusion, he suddenly seemed frightened. “Do you believe all that ‘God is love’ stuff? Like, do you believe that he loves everybody?”

“Yes.” It just came out. She bit her lip, shocked at herself for telling such a blatant lie. Or was it a lie? It was always something she’d secretly wondered about, a contradiction she alone seemed to notice. The Bible says God loves everyone, Jesus says love thy neighbour-but not Queers, not Carriers-That’s what the Church said. No matter what way she looked at it, it didn’t make sense. She’d always been so sure…Now after ten minutes of talking to Stiles she didn’t know what she believed anymore. 

“Good, then at least you’re not like those crazies on TV.” He sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Look Allison, I don’t think Scott believes in God. But I know he believes in you. He’s crazy about you; acts like you hung the moon.”

She couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto her face. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen him so hung up on a girl before-everything’s ‘Allison, this, Allison, that’-To be honest, it gets wearing. But I can see why he likes you. You’re nice.”

“Then why has he been ignoring my calls and texts?”

He looked sheepish. “That’s on me. I’ve-I’ve had some stuff going on in the past few days and he wanted to be there for me- you know what he’s like.”

It suddenly struck her-Of course, Stiles hadn’t been in school either. 

“So, he’s not breaking up with me?”

He flashed her his impish grin. “Scott’s not that stupid-He knows he’d never get a girl as hot as you to go out with him again. Look, I’ll give him a call and tell him you stopped by and he needs to call you before he blows it, o.k?”

“Thanks, Stiles.” Overcome with relief she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. 

He jerked away in surprise. “What was that for?”

“For being so sweet.”

“It’s fine.”

“So, what’s going on with you? Are you sick or something? When are you coming back to school?”

At her questions he suddenly became evasive, scrambling to his feet and shrinking back into the shadows. “I don’t know. It’s-it’s a family thing. Look, I’ll go call Scott now, o.k?”

“Sure.” She watched Stiles duck back inside the house and thought about all the other things Scott had told her about him-How after his mom died there was a while when his father had drank too much and Stiles had pretty much looked after them both. Deep down, she couldn’t blame him for not believing; not after he’d been dealt such a rough hand in life. 

She stood and made her way back to Kate’s car.

 

Kate met her at the door. “Well, how’d it go?”

“Good. He was really kind.” She couldn’t help but grin. “It turns out it wasn’t about me at all. Scott was just helping Stiles out with some stuff. Oh, and Stiles says Scott’s crazy about me.”

She expected Kate to share her relief, but her aunt seemed distracted. “That’s sweet. Now come on, we need to get down to the basement.” She caught her arm and began pulling her towards the stairs before she’d even had time to take off her coat. 

“Hey! What’s going on?”

She turned to her, her eyes were shining with excitement. “My father’s here!”

Allison’s heart skipped a beat. “Grandpa’s here?!”

“Yes! Come on!”

This time Allison didn’t have to be trailed. She ran, taking the steps two at a time.

 

The basement was dark when they entered, the only light coming from the flickering projector. Kate took her hand and pulled her through the tightly packed bodies towards the front so they wouldn’t miss a thing. They settled down onto the floor just as the promotional film started, opening with an idyllic scene of the perfect family playing in a flower-filled park on a sunny day. She was blonde and beautiful; he was dark, square-jawed and handsome. They had two children-a boy and a girl. The girl wore a pretty pink dress and had her blonde hair done in braids. The boy wore a T-shirt with the American flag on it as he tossed a football to his father. Over the scene the distinctive voice of Pastor Anderson spoke;

“America has to ask itself-What sort of world do we wish to build? A world where our families are protected and our women and children valued should be the aim of every patriotic American. However, in the last ten years we have seen the great institution that is the American family come under threat!”

The perfect family disappeared to be replaced by stills and footage that made the audience gasp in shock, quickly edited so the images seemed to flash past-pictures of bloody foetuses dumped in gore-filled buckets; naked people kissing and groping each other in a field; crowds marching along a street waving rainbow flags; women kissing other women; men kissing other men. Words written in huge capital letters zoomed across the screen-ABORTION! ADULTERY! FORNACATION! IMMORALITY! HOMOSEXUALITY! Then a final image appeared, staying flickering on the screen-obviously chosen to be the most shocking of them all-A grainy picture of a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties, standing outside a café, one hand holding the arm of the man standing beside him…And the other resting over his grotesquely swollen stomach. No, Allison corrected herself, not a man-A Carrier. Just as she thought it, the word flashed across the screen.

THE CARRIER.

Then Pastor Anderson himself appeared, his face a carefully constructed mask of concern. 

“My faithful family, in our lifetime the greatest threat to America has appeared-The Carrier. Carriers kill families. That’s what they are made to do. They negate our women, molest our children and encourage our men to engage in sodomy! They are an affront to God! The general public have no idea what they’ve welcomed into their midst-The fools!”

“EXACTLY!” Someone roared from behind them. “DAMN IDIOTS!”

“The stupid Liberals argue that these things deserve rights, HUMAN rights! They claim that these things are a natural genetic mutation!” There was collective snort of disbelief from the watching crowd. On screen the Pastor was getting more and more irate, his skin flushing puce and beads of sweat shining on his forehead as he gesticulated wildly. “Little do they realise that the Carrier is not only a threat to their lives but a threat to the lives of every man, woman and child in this fine nation! So our doctors found a solution-A programme of sterilisation that would stop the monstrous things from multiplying and infesting all of mankind. Of course the things will refuse to have it, it stops them doing what they are intended to do-breed us out of existence! Of course they will need to be forced! But does our government take the logical action of making it the law? DO THEY HELL! THE FOOLS! THE LIBERAL-MINDED, WEAK, SPINELESS MORONS! WILLING TO RISK OUR FAMILIES FOR FEAR OF CAUSING OFFENCE!”

Now the crowd in the cramped basement were shouting and cheering.

“YOU TELL ‘EM PASTOR!”

“STUPID LIBERAL RETARDS!”

“NEUTER THE FREAKS!”

Almost as if he could hear them, Pastor Anderson turned to look right into the camera. “And that, brothers and sisters, is why I am calling on each chapter of the F.A.C to rise up in mutiny. If the government and the police won’t protect our families and our way of life then it falls on us, ordinary Americans, to do our duty to our country! Our duty to God! RISE UP, MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS! RISE UP AND DEFEND YOUR COUNTRY, YOUR FAMILY, YOUR FAITH! FIGHT AS SOLDIERS OF GOD IN THIS HOLY WAR!” The basement filled with roars of approval that sounded, to Allison, like battle cries. The excitement was palpable, infectious. When Kate cried out she joined in with a war cry of her own. “And remember-It’s not the event that wakes people up; it’s the reaction to the event.”

The screen went dark; the lights came up…And Allison’s grandfather stood in front of them.

Gerard Argent was her father’s father and Pastor Anderson’s Advisor-Essentially his right-hand man. He was in his early seventies, wiry and wrinkled as an elderly tortoise. Though not especially tall, he had a quietly commanding presence that made sure he was noticed, even in a crowded room. His beady black eyes flickered over the baying crowd, cold and calculating…then he smiled revealing bone grey teeth like a row of tombstones.

“ALRIGHT EVERYONE, SETTLE DOWN!” He raised his hands for silence and they all obeyed. “Now, as I’m sure you know, the F.A.C have declared a covert war with the express purpose of making our government wake up and recognise the Carrier threat. We will not rest until it becomes law that every baby, male or female, born with this mutant gene will be forcibly sterilised. If we are successful we could eliminate the Carrier gene within one generation, and save humanity from ruin!” They all roared their approval and his smile grew wider. “All over the country right now Chapters of the F.A.C are mobilising. In New York Chapter 32 have built several explosive devices with the intention of planting them at strategic places throughout the city: In Baton Rouge Chapter 10 managed to burn several of these mutants out of their homes: In California Chapter 40 have managed to hack into the computer systems of several Carriers Rights Organisations and destroy their data: In Texas Chapter 17 are stockpiling firearms and ammo: In Washington itself Chapter 25 are working on obtaining Anthrax. Now is the time for our Chapter to make an impact! Now is the time for us to be noticed! So what can we do? What can Chapter 7 do to get the attention of a nation? Of the world? What has been a tried and tested method utilised effectively by many protest organisations before us?”

Suddenly above them the projector buzzed to life and a chilling image filled the wall behind him- A man kneeling on a concrete floor, his wrists bound in front of him and half his face obscured by a thick blindfold. Behind him two masked figures stood, brandishing rifles. 

The image was so shocking that it made Allison pause. Instinctively she turned, her gaze searched through the crowd until it came to land on her father, where he stood against the wall gaping at the image…He looked absolutely horrified.

“WE WILL TAKE A HOSTAGE!” Around them the crowd roared in support of her grand-fathers plan. “We know that there is a Carrier in this town! We will find it, we will take it and we will hold it to ransom until those morons in government rethink their attitude to our Sterilisation programme-torture it if they stall, kill it if we have to!”

“TORTURE IT?! KILL IT?! ARE YOU INSANE?!” Her father’s shout cut through the approving cheers. They all turned to watch as he marched across the room towards his own father, blue eyes burning with shock and anger. “THEY’RE THE MONSTERS, NOT US! WHAT ABOUT THE CODE?! DON’T SPILL BLOOD! DON’T TAKE LIVES! DON’T HARM CHILDREN! FOR ALL WE KNOW THIS CARRIER COULD BE A CHILD!”

He looked ready to fight-but then Gerard rounded on him, teeth bared, the old lion ready and more than capable of batting down the young cub. 

“PASTOR ANDERSON HIMSELF HAS SAID THAT THE CODE NO LONGER APPLIES! WAKE UP, CHRISTOPHER! WE ARE AT WAR! BLOOD WILL BE SHED! BUT IF WE ARE THE ONES TO DO IT, IT WILL BE BECAUSE THOSE FUCKING MORONS ON CAPITAL HILL FORCED OUR HAND! NOW SIT THE FUCK DOWN! IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED, YOU WERE NEVER THE ONE IN CHARGE HERE! YOU’RE JUST MARRIED TO HER!” A snigger rose from the rest of the Chapter. For a moment her father stood clenching and unclenching his fists, visibly shaking with rage, before finally retreating back to the corner, cowed and silenced-for now. Her grandfather turned his attention to her mother, reaching out his hand. “Victoria my dear, what do you think of my little plan?”

She moved to take it and let him lead her out in front of them all, her high heels clicking on the concrete floor. She beamed at them as she gave her answer. “Gerard, I think it’s a marvellous idea.”

Bolstered by her seal of approval, her grandfather turned and addressed them all once more. “Forget spreading the message. From now on all our efforts must be concentrated on hunting the mutant down and trapping it. Find the Carrier, bring it to me…And we’ll make the United States Government dance to our tune.”

This time, the roar of approval from the chapter was almost deafening. In the midst of the chaos Allison turned to look- first at her father gaping at them all in horror and disgust, then at her mother who was beaming with excitement and pride. She felt torn as she realised…

She had no idea whose side she was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you sooooo much to all you wonderful folks who left comments, kudos and bookmarked this story-It means so much to me. Please leave more to let me know what you think of this chapter and I will love you forever.
> 
> I also want to do a special shout-out to the wonderful Mandy-My Writing hero and soul sister. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without my sassy Southern Belle of a friend. Thank you Mandy for being so patient and supportive, for reading these chapters and listening patiently as I talk on and on about this story, and thank you for being your incredible self. 
> 
> Next time-Stiles meets with some adoptive parents...And is left with a lot to think about and a big decision to make.


	7. Chapter Seven-Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' has a change of heart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry this is a bit late! I've been working like a demon these past few weeks. Still, I hope I've made up for it by giving you the longest chapter so far! I have a question. This hasn't been getting as much hits as I'd hoped for and I know part of that is because it's an M-Preg and because it doesn't really focus on any Ships or have any steamy sex scenes. It's more a story. But I was wondering...Is it also to do with Derek being the villian? I can take or leave his character but I know some people really love him. I was thinking of changing Stiles attacker to Peter Hale as it doesn't matter that much to me but it might to readers. What do you guys think? *EDIT* I changed Stiles attacker to Peter. 
> 
> Also, I'm Irish and know next to nothing about Baseball so apologies to any Mets fans.

Chapter Seven-Heartbeat

 

Stiles lay on his back, watching the beams of car headlights dance across his bedroom ceiling. In the two weeks since his pregnancy had been confirmed he’d felt panicked, unable to settle, twitchy and jittery to the point of wanting to crawl out of his skin-And the Adderall withdrawal hadn’t helped. That fact alone irritated him-he had to give up medication HE needed in favour of folic acid and vitamins for a baby he didn’t want; a baby that, as far as he was concerned, had nothing to do with him-Peter Hale’s baby.

Peter Hale. It didn’t matter that when confronted by the evidence that sick son of a bitch had pleaded guilty, didn’t matter that he was awaiting sentencing, that he was going to jail; every time Stiles thought of him a white hot rage boiled up inside him, the lack of an outlet for it torturing him to the point of insanity. He’d spent whole nights pacing his room, fists clenched so tight that his fingernails gouged moon-shaped wounds in his palms, thinking about how much he hated that man, how unfair it was that he, his victim, seemed to be paying the most for his crime. He constructed elaborate revenge fantasies in his head, imagined a million different ways of killing him, each one bloodier and more agonising than the last, until he was shaking with frustration, delirious with rage. But at least that was better than the fear that hit him at around 3am, when he’d wake up sobbing and shaking, his sheets soaked in cold sweat, and spend the rest of the night flinching at the slightest sound. Then even home no longer felt safe. 

But tonight it wasn’t jitters, anger or even fear that was keeping him awake.

Inside him, the baby was moving.

It was the oddest sensation- a rolling or pulsing, punctuated by taps and, every so often, a poking sensation just below his navel-not particularly uncomfortable…But definitely disturbing. 

He moved his hand down to rest on his swollen stomach…Only to yank it away when something seemed to push against it from the inside. Startled, he jerked upright and lifted his T-shirt, almost expecting to see the perfect outline of a tiny foot protruding from his flesh-But his bump was firm and smooth. Disgusted by the sight of it, he pushed his T-shirt back down. Well, there was no way he was going to be able to sleep now. He glanced around the room, looking for something to distract him, and his gaze fell on his lap-top where it balanced precariously on his nightstand. He reached for it, powered it up and hit the Skype icon.

A few minutes of high-pitched beeping and then Scott’s face filled the screen. He was lying on his side in bed, propped up on one elbow, his dark hair messy from sleep.  
“Stiles? What the hell?! It’s 4 am!”

Stiles balanced the lap-top on his knees. “It’s moving Scott! It’s fucking moving! I can feel it!”

“What’s moving?”

“The baby! The baby is fucking moving…I think I even felt it kick!”

“Oh.” Scott yawned. “Cool.”

“Cool?! COOL?! It feels like something out of fucking ‘Alien’! Any second now I feel like it’s gonna come bursting out my chest and splatter the space-ships’ crew with blood and guts!”

Scott put on his sensible voice. “Stiles, there’s no space-ship crew in your bedroom. And it’s not an alien. Isn’t it normal to feel the baby kicking? Good, even?”

Yes…If you’re twenty-five year old soccer mom. Not if you’re a sixteen year old boy.”

Scott considered this and his expression changed from vaguely annoyed to sympathetic. “Sorry, man. Want me to come over?”

Stiles thought about saying yes, but knew it would be selfish. “No, it’s o.k-You have school tomorrow. Could you just talk to me for a bit? Just until I stop freaking out?” 

Scott nodded, smiling sleepily. “Sure. What about?”

He shrugged. “School, I guess. Anything interesting happen in the past couple of weeks?”

Scott considered the question. “Well, Erica Reyes had an epileptic fit in the canteen and wet herself. It was brutal, everyone was laughing. She hasn’t been in since.”

“Shit, poor Erica.”

“Oh!” Scott’s eyes lit up as he remembered a particularly juicy piece of gossip. “And the old lady in the school office has been suspended! Seems they found pornographic material on her computer.”

“Old Miss Rivers?! No way! She must be around seventy!”

“Yeah, apparently she has a side-line writing erotic fiction.”

“Urgh!” Stiles shuddered in mock horror. “Pensioner porn!” They both burst out laughing. Once they’d composed themselves, Scott continued. 

“We got some new guys in home room-Twins, transferred from Lassen County. Their names are Ethan and Aidan, they’re huge, and they’re jerks. Of course, they’re now part of Jackson’s squad. Oh, and speaking of Jackson…” His lips twisted into a salacious smirk. “I think he and Lydia might split soon. They keep having these huge fights in the hallway where she screams and calls him names-It’s pretty awesome!”

Stiles knew Scott meant to cheer him up, but that news only made him feel more miserable. When he spoke he didn’t even bother trying to hide his sarcasm. “Yeah, and what would be even more awesome would be if I swooped in like a superhero, swept her off her feet and showed her what real love was like…If I wasn’t knocked up, that is.”

“Sorry, man.” Scott looked sheepish. “So, when do you think you’ll be back at school?”

Stiles shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t think I will be back. Dad seems to want to keep me hidden until this thing comes out. He’s told them I have a bug to buy himself some time until he can work out whether to tell them the truth, or make up some other medical condition.”

“But you’ll miss too much!” Scott’s eyes were wide. “They’ll keep you back a year! We won’t be in the same classes anymore!”

“I know. It sucks.”

Scott frowned, his brow furrowed as he thought. “But I don’t really see why you can’t go to school as long as you can manage it. Remember Rachel Sordino? She was in school until the week before the birth. Her parents said they had a legal obligation to educate her.”

“Yeah…But she was a girl, not a Carrier.”

“I don’t see why it would be any different. You’re still a minor. You still have the right to a state education.”

“Tell that to my dad. Besides…I’m not sure I want to go back.” 

“How come?”

Stiles felt himself go red. “Because…Because then everyone in school will know what I am.”

“So? If anyone says anything I’ll punch them. Besides, you’ve never cared what people thought of you before.”

“It’s not that simple, Scott.” Of course he wouldn’t understand. How could he? 

For a few moments they sat in awkward silence; then Scott changed the subject. “So is it tomorrow that you’re going to meet that couple?”

“Yeah. At two o’clock in a Café in Fremont. Dad doesn’t really think I should go with him but I’m going stir-crazy sitting here all day, and it’s a few towns over so I doubt we’ll see anyone from Beacon Hills.”

“What are they like?”

Stiles shrugged. “Well, judging by the file sent by the adoption agency, they seem pretty legit. She’s an Elementary School teacher and he’s an Architect. They live in the suburbs in a house with a pool and a Labrador called Dexter, and they want a closed adoption.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the records of the biological parents will be sealed. It means that I don’t have to put Derek’s name on the birth certificate…and it also means that I can’t contact them after the adoption and it can’t find me.”

“Wait…So you’ll never see your baby again?” To Stiles’ surprise, Scott looked shocked. 

He shook his head. “No. Why?”

“But, what about when it’s older? It’ll probably want to know who you are.”

Stiles began chewing on his thumbnail. “It’ll be looking for its mom, Scotty. Imagine the trauma if it saw a boys’ name on the birth certificate and realised that it was born from a Carrier? That could really fuck it up. And if it did track me down and asked about its other father, what the hell would I say? How the hell would I explain? ‘Daddy number one was a sixteen year old Carrier kid and Daddy number two was the paedophile who raped him and then boasted about it on the internet?’ No kid needs to hear that. No, my dad’s right-A closed adoption is for the best.” 

Scott sighed. “I guess…It’s just…”

And suddenly Stiles was annoyed. “Just what? Spit it out, Scott!”

His friends’ dark eyes became sad. “It’s just…You always said you wanted kids when we grew up and…and I always thought you’d be a really great dad, Stiles.”

A confusing wave of sadness washed over him and he shook his head in an effort to shake it away. “Not now, not like this. I meant having kids when I was an adult, with my wife. Y’know- the normal way.”

‘But you’re not normal.’

Neither of them said it out loud, yet the statement hung in the air between them, making them shift uncomfortably and avoid one another’s eyes. Finally Scott yawned.  
“Ok, I gotta go. I’ve to get up for school in an hour. I’ll call over after with your homework, o.k?”

“Yeah, sure. ‘Night.” 

“Night.” 

He hung up, leaving Stiles staring at the blank screen. Scott had always been the hopeful one, always expecting the best of people, his relentless positivity the perfect foil to Stiles’ almost permanent pessimism and distrust. Stiles knew that in Scott’s mind there would be no problem-He could go back to school and everyone would welcome him with open arms and be kind and supportive; and if he kept the baby it would all be easy and fun and as picture perfect as a Hallmark movie. Scott was an idiot. No, Stiles corrected himself, that wasn’t fair. Scott just didn’t know. He didn’t know what Stiles was feeling, had no idea what his fears were, and he could never know-because he wasn’t a Carrier. That’s what made Stiles feel so alone…

…But he wasn’t the only boy in the world who’d been born with the C919394 gene.

He’d never had any interest in finding any other Carriers before, too intent on ignoring that part of him as much as possible. But now he was seized by a sudden urge to seek out someone, anyone, who might understand even just a bit of what he was going through. He turned back to the computer screen.

He clicked on the Google icon and typed ‘Carrier+Forums+Support Groups+Chat Room’ into the search bar. He had to sift through a ton of information pages, nasty memes and even a few hate groups before one link caught his eye.

 

www.CarriersInternationalNetwork.Forums.org  
A forum created as a safe, confidential space for the Carriers of the C919394 gene to come together and find support, information and advice.

 

Oh well, here goes nothing…He clicked on it. 

It had a similar layout to most of the gaming forums he’d used, only the section titles were different- ‘Introductions’, ‘Legal and Employment Advice for Carriers’, ‘Carrier Activism’, ‘Female Carrier Area’, ‘Carrier Parents’, ‘Medical Queries’, ‘Teen Section (Under 18’s only.)’ He clicked on the last one and scrolled down through the threads:

 

‘Just found out I’m a Carrier-Freaking out! Need advice!’

‘How do I tell my boyfriend I’m a Carrier?’

‘How 2 cope wi bullying an H8…’

‘How do U deal with periods at school?’

‘Dad hates me because I’m a Carrier.’

‘I’m a Carrier and I’m straight-How did that happen?’

‘Who else hates the F.A.C?!’

‘So am I a dude or what?’

‘Mom wants me to be sterilised-Can I say no?’

‘Need 2 get out of football practice when on my period-But I’m the Captain! Help!”

 

They all seemed so…familiar. He went back to the ‘Introductions’, clicked on ‘New Post’, and began to type…

‘Hi everyone. I’m sixteen, I’m a boy and I found out I was a Carrier when I was eight. I like playing video games, especially Assassin’s Creed; Star Wars; and I play Lacrosse for my school.”

He paused and stared at it. It was fine…But it wasn’t the truth. And he didn’t even have to give his name here; he could finally say what he really felt. He deleted what he’d typed and started over.

 

‘Hi. I’m a boy, I’m sixteen and I’ve known I was a Carrier since I was eight. I hate everything about it. I hate the constant hospital appointments where everyone pokes at me and stares at me like I’m a freak. I hate the hormones and periods. And I’m so scared. I’m so scared that people will find out. I’m scared every time I turn on the TV and see the F.A.C talking about putting us all down like animals.

And I’m scared because I’m pregnant.

I was raped by a man at a party four months ago and he got me pregnant. Apart from the cops, no one knows except my dad, my best friend, my best friends’ mom and my doctor. My dad won’t let me go to school or leave the house anymore in case somebody sees me. I’m giving the baby away. I don’t know how I’m supposed to give birth and I’m terrified about that. How much will it hurt? Could I die? How does it work exactly? Maybe someone could tell me? 

 

And maybe someone could also tell me…Is this all my fault? Did I somehow make him do it because I’m a Carrier?’ 

I hate him. This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go. I was going to ignore the Carrier thing, marry the girl I like from school and become a cop like my dad. I had a plan.  
And I hate me, because if I wasn’t born wrong, if I wasn’t a freak of nature, then I wouldn’t be in this fucked-up situation.’

 

He sat back and stared at it. It felt…raw…seeing it all written out like that. For a moment he thought about deleting it-But he was also curious to see what replies he would get. So he left it there and went back to the main page. A section caught his eye:

‘Carrier Parents’

Without realising quite what he was doing, he clicked it. The top thread popped up;

‘Picture thread!-Show off your family!’

Again, curiosity got the better of him and he clicked and began scrolling down through photographs with titles such as ‘Ben’s first day at Kindergarten!’, ‘Megan learns to ride a bike!’, ‘Taylor making a mess!’, that showed beaming children standing proudly outside front doors in new school uniforms, playing in gardens, babies sitting in high chairs covered in food or giggling in their parents arms. Some had a mother and a father with them, some two fathers, and some just one, but they all had a few things in common-they all looked surprisingly ordinary, normal even…And they all looked happy.

He closed the lap-top with a click and set it back on his nightstand before lying down on his side and pressing his face into his pillow, one hand trailing down over his bump as he drifted off to sleep. 

 

******************

 

The next day he sat at his desk, drumming his fingers nervously on the edge of the lap-top as he waited for the site to load. He took a deep breath and clicked on his post, scrolling slowly down through the comments…

 

‘What happened to you was horrible-but it wasn’t your fault. What that man did had nothing to do with you being a Carrier at all. He is an adult and you are a child. What he did was a crime. I’m so sorry that happened to you.’

 

‘I’m pregnant by my partner and I’m terrified-And I’m 25. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be going through this at 16. And all alone. PM me if you want to talk and I’ll PM you when I find out more about Carrier birth.’

 

‘A freak of nature? LOLZ! Then ur in the rite place! We’re all freaks of nature here! And yeah, the F.A.C are fuckin’ scary man!’

 

‘We’ve all been there, but please don’t hate yourself. I know it’s hard to believe-but there is nothing ‘wrong’ with you. You’re not a freak.’

 

‘Wow, dude that’s shit! I’m 16 too and I hate being a Carrier. It’s scary af-but at least I’m not pregnant. People on this site are pretty cool-we’re all the same. PM me an I’ll introduce you.’

 

They were only messages on a screen-But to Stiles they were a revelation. He clicked on ‘Reply’ and began to type:

‘Hi everyone! Thanks so much for your messages. I knew I wasn’t the only Carrier on Earth but it’s good to have conformation. I_’

 

Suddenly his bedroom door banged open and his father’s voice filled the room.

“Ok, so I’m not saying you have to dress up to meet these people but-You doin’ homework?”

He slammed the lid of the lap-top closed and swung round in his chair to face him. “Yeah, just some History research. You know, just in case I ever go back to school.”

“Funny.” His father eyed him curiously for a few moments, before giving up. “Anyway, as I was saying, you don’t have to dress up to meet these people, they’re not adopting you-But you can’t keep wearing sweatshirts I steal from work and the pants from when I let myself go. So here,’” He held up a large carrier bag in each hand. “I went shopping for you.”

“Uh, thanks?” Stiles eyed the bags suspiciously as his father set them on his bed. 

“Now, weird though this sounds, none of the stores I went to seemed to stock maternity clothes for guys, so I just got what you usually wear but a few sizes up. There’s a business idea in there somewhere. If either of us could sew worth a damn we could make a fortune.” He caught his eye and grinned. Stiles grinned back to show he knew it was a joke. “Got you chinos, some sweats, T-shirts, flannels…And a jacket. You ok with navy?”

“Yeah, but Dad we can’t afford-”

“You needed clothes Stiles. I can at least clothe my own kid. Oh, and I got you this.” He pulled something from one of the bags and leaned over to set it on his head. Stiles reached up and lifted it down to examine it. It was a black Mets baseball cap-similar to the green one he always wore, but brand new. “Your team. Your old one is pretty wrecked so…”

Stiles was touched. “Thanks Dad.”

His father reached to ruffle his hair and, for the first time in years, Stiles let him. “So, go on. Try it all on. Melissa says she can turn up sleeves and legs if needed.” Stiles made to get up, struggling to push himself out of the chair. “Here, let me help you.” He hesitated, embarrassed, before realising that he didn’t really have a choice. He held out his hands and let his father take them and tug him upright. “Oof! You’re getting big!”

“I’m aware.” He made to lift his sweatshirt over his head and then paused. “Dad, do you mind..?”

He expected him to nod and hurry toward the door, embarrassed; but instead he stood firm. “I want to see you. You’re my kid. I need to see what’s going on with you.” 

Stiles made to argue, then saw the conviction in his father’s grey eyes. He nodded. “Just don’t freak out, o.k?”

He took off his sweatshirt, dropped it on the floor and stood biting his lip, arms wrapped around him and head bowed in shame.

“Come here.” His father reached to take his wrists in his hands, gently pulling his arms away to reveal his dark, swollen nipples and his bump, seemingly huge where it protruded from his narrow torso, purple stretch-marks standing out on the taunt skin like zebra stripes. “Oh Son…I wish I’d killed him for doing this to you. Does it hurt?”

Stiles nodded. “The Doc says it’s the muscles stretching and stuff.”

His father cupped his cheek in his hand. “Hey, look at me.” Stiles did. “I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You’ve been so strong, so brave through all of this. That sick bastard tried to make you into a victim...But I think you’re a hero.”

“I’m not a hero, Dad.” Stiles reached up to lift his hand away. “I’m not a hero.”

“Yes, you are.” He pointed to the bags of clothes. “Now, get dressed and let’s go fix this.”

 

******************

 

The café they pulled up in front of was neat and tidy, full of Artisan benches and hipsters typing on Apple Macs-a far cry from the greasy Diners in Beacon Hills where they sometimes grabbed dinner between his father’s shifts. 

“Jeez, these people are fancy.”

“Yep. You ready to do this?”

Stiles put on his cap-the right way round this time, so the peak hid his face- tugged the hood of his jacket up over his head, and took a deep breath. “No, but I’m doing it anyway.”

 

The whispering started as soon as they entered. At every table they passed people paused, coffee cups half-way to their lips, and turned to watch, wide-eyed and curious. Stiles shrank into his father’s side and kept his own gaze on the floor, his cheeks growing hot under the weight of their stares. For the first time in his life he found himself wishing desperately that people would think he was a tom-boyish girl. 

“Sheriff Stilinski!” A tall, dark-haired man in his late-forties came to meet them, flashing a forced grin that showed off startlingly white teeth. He was dressed in perfectly tailored trousers and a crisp Ralph Lauren Shirt. “James Duncan. Thank-you for coming to meet us.” He steered them over to a booth where a handsome blonde woman of about the same age sat, nervously drumming her manicured fingernails on a manila file on the table in front of her. “My wife, Frances.” 

“Noah.” 

They shook hands and then she turned her attention to Stiles. “And this must be…umm…” She glanced down at the file, suddenly flustered.

“Oh don’t worry, no one can pronounce it. We just call him Stiles. Sit down, Son.”

Stiles sank into the chair opposite the woman and tugged it in with his heel, trying to hide as much of his bump as he could beneath the table. His father sat down beside him and the man joined his wife on the other side. For a few moments they sat in awkward silence. Then the woman smiled at Stiles. 

“So Stiles, are you hiding from us? Let’s see you.” Reluctantly he lowered his hood and tugged off his cap, running a hand through his hair. She leaned forward in her seat, keen blue eyes searching his face critically. When she sat back again her smile seemed to be a little too relieved for Stiles’ liking. “You’re a handsome boy. Isn’t he handsome, James?”

“Yes, he is.” The man seemed amused.

Stiles lowered his gaze to the table. “Thanks.”

“Gets it from his mother.” His father reached to rest a hand on his shoulder. “He looks very like her.”

The woman seemed to misinterpret Stiles’ awkwardness for annoyance. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it ‘boy’, or do you prefer…Something else? I’m not sure of the exact term…”

“I’m a boy!” Stiles snapped, cutting her off. His father’s hand tightened in a warning grip. 

“Excuse me?” As one they all looked up. A waitress stood at the table, notebook in hand. Stiles couldn’t help but notice that she’d made sure to position herself right beside him and kept sneaking glances downwards. “Can I take your order?”

“Coffee, please. Black.” His father said. 

Stiles looked over his shoulder to where the rest of the waiting staff and baristas were crowded round the counter, watching them curiously. So she’d been nominated to gawp at him and report back. Nice. 

“And you?” She made sure to peer right into his face, pink lipsticked mouth frozen in a false smile.

“Just water, please.” 

He listened to the click of her heels as she hurried back to her colleagues, hissing at them excitedly. “Yep! It’s DEFINITELY not a girl!”

“So,” The woman smoothed her pink cashmere sweater carefully. “I suppose you want to know a bit about us. Well, I have a Bachelors degree in Child Development from Berkley and a Masters in Early Years Education from Cal State, and I’ve spent my whole career Teaching Elementary School- mostly Kindergarten- so I have plenty of experience with young children.”

He husband nodded. “I myself studied Architecture at USC and have recently started my own firm. Financially, we are more than able to support a child. We own our own property on the edge of town, in a good neighbourhood, with a large yard and plenty of room for them to run around. There are also a variety of high-performing schools close by.”

It all sounded so perfect-Almost too perfect. The waitress came back with their drinks and Stiles glared at her, determined to make her as uncomfortable as possible until she hurried away again. He then turned to them.

“So why do you want to adopt a baby?”

The woman sighed. Suddenly a crack seemed to appear in her perfect façade and behind it he caught a glimpse of someone who was weary…And sad. Unconsciously she reached to her throat and drew out a necklace with a small silver cross, tugging the cross up and down the chain as she spoke. “We can’t have any children of our own. We’ve tried for fifteen years. Six cycles of IVF and two miscarriages. We want to be parents and we know we can give a baby a wonderful life, but sadly, it just hasn’t happened for us yet.” Her husband reached to tug her hand away from her necklace and squeeze it, before wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Beside him, his father nodded thoughtfully. “And what are your values?”

The man smiled. “We’re not overly religious, but we do have strict moral values. We believe that it’s vital to raise a child in a nurturing, loving and caring home. Mr Stilinski, I assure you the baby will be wanted and dearly loved.”

“Good.”

The woman leaned across the table eagerly towards Stiles. “You have another scan tomorrow Stiles. How is the baby doing?”

He shrugged. “I don’t look at the scans but The Doc-my doctor-says it’s fine; that everything’s going well and that it’s healthy.”

“And how far are you along, now?”

“Sixteen weeks, Doc says.”

“Do you know the sex yet?”

“I never asked. But I could find out tomorrow for you, if you want?”

“We don’t mind. One of life’s few surprises, right?”

“Oh I dunno, my life’s been pretty damn surprising, so far.”

Behind them, the whispering was starting to grow louder. A steady stream of people seemed to suddenly need to visit the bathroom or the counter, taking a detour past their table as they did so. Stiles wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. 

 

The woman chuckled weakly and took a sip of her coffee. “So, Mr Stilinski, I hope you don’t mind me asking…Has Stiles had any serious illnesses growing up? Any medical conditions?”

His father shook his head. “Chickenpox, the Flu, coughs and colds-the usual; but he’s generally pretty healthy.”

“And what about the family medical history? Is there anything we should know? You’re wife passed away quite young, I understand?”

Stiles noticed his father flinch at the mention of his mothers’ death. “No history of inherited illness on either side. My wife died of a condition known as Frontotemporal Dementia, a severe form of early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The woman nodded sympathetically. Something about her reaction struck Stiles as…odd. 

“I have ADHD.” His father kicked his ankle beneath the table and shot him a warning look, but he ignored him and continued. “It’s pretty severe and it affects my school-work. It’s why I’m twitchy. I’m medicated for it. Adderall-pretty high dosage.”

“Oh,” He expected them to look worried; but instead they smiled. The woman shrugged. “Well, that’s o.k. That’s not an illness.” 

“I’m sorry.” The man looked wretched, but his wife nudged him and gave him a meaningful look. “I hate to ask this but…Do you know anything at all about the father-the other fathers-family history? Any inherited conditions or disabilities?”

This time it was Stile’s turn to give his father’s shoulder a warning squeeze. He turned to see him visibly gritting his teeth. When he spoke his tone was deliberately calm. “That family kept themselves to themselves. All I know is that it was large…And that their eldest was a predator who sexually assaulted three teenage boys in my town, including my son. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom.” 

His chair scrapped against the floor as he pushed it back. They watched him march off.

“So,” The man nodded at Stiles’ cap. “Mets fan, huh?”

Stiles nodded back, happy to talk about something other than pregnancy, babies and Peter Hale. “Yep. I know being from Cali I should probably support the Dodgers or L.A Giants, but they both suck. Especially the Dodgers. They got a crowded outfield and they keep making dumb trades. Mom was born in Queens and my grandfather was a Mets fan so I carried on family tradition.”

“You think they should sign Casilla?”

“Absolutely. Romo only had four saves last season. He’s not worth it.”

“So, do you play Baseball?”

“Just for fun. Lacrosse is the big game at my school. I’m on the team. Or, at least I was.”

“You any good?”

“We can hold our own.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Urgh, boys and their sports! So, what are your favourite subjects at school?”

“Probably English and History-I like working things out.”

Behind them the whispers were reaching a crescendo. Stiles could now pick out individual voices.

“So, do you think he’s..?” “Definitely! That was a baby bump!”

“It’s pregnant!”

“Wow, I’ve never seen one this close before!”

“Urgh, fucking disgusting. And how old is it? About fifteen?”

“It can’t be…Do you think it is?”

“That’s no girl! That’s a Carrier!”

“…Carrier.”

“…Carrier.”

The woman was still smiling, but now it looked pained. “So, what would you like to be when you grow up?”

“I want to follow my dad into the Force. Like I said, I like figuring things out so…” He trailed off as he noticed the man shifting awkwardly in his seat, his gaze flicking over his shoulder to the tables beyond. “People are staring, aren’t they? At me? I can hear them talking about me too.”

The woman reached to pat his hand. “There’s no need to be embarrassed…”

He pulled it away, suspicion creeping in. Something wasn’t right, something didn’t fit-he just had to figure out what. 

“I know. But you are.” He turned to look over his shoulder at the other customers. Some looked away hurriedly, others gawped…and a few glared back at him disapprovingly. He turned back in time to see the guilt on both their faces. “You do know that the C919394 gene is hereditary, right? If I have a boy he could be a Carrier just like me, with the extra organs. And if I have a girl, she could still be a Carrier, she could have the gene. Her sons could be just like me.”

“Oh, don’t worry-We’ll deal with that if it happens.” The woman waved a hand dismissively, and Stiles went cold as one by one the pieces started to fit together.

He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “Deal with it how?”

“By having it sterilised, of course.” She stared at him, as if it was obvious. 

The man nodded. “We think it would be kindest.”

He gaped at them, shocked. “Kindest?! Do you know how painful the operation is supposed to be? And that’s for adults! You’re talking about inflicting it on a baby! And you know that the sterilisation is total, right? Boy or girl, they’ll never be able to have families of their own. You know what that feels like! How could you take that away from them? What the fuck is wrong with you?! How could you be so cruel?”

The woman turned away from him, rolling her eyes, all pretence of warmth and concern melting away to be replaced by irritation. The man sighed and wiped a hand over his face.  
“Yes, kindest. Because what’s the alternative? This?” He gestured to Stiles’ stomach. “You want to know what’s cruel? I’ll tell you-Your father leaving you Intact for this to happen to you. He should have taken you to a surgeon before you even hit puberty.”

“And if I’d refused? Should he have forced me? Dragged me to the hospital? Had them strap me to the operating table?”

The man fixed him with a patronising smile. “You’re just a kid, Stiles. You don’t understand…”

Stiles scowled back. “Oh, I understand perfectly.”

His father arrived back at the table. He looked from his son to the man and back, noting the tension. “Is everything o.k?”

“Yeah, Dad, everything’s fine…Because I’ve worked it all out.” Stiles’ gaze didn’t leave the couple. “The agency have quite a few expectant mothers on their books, and a lot of them chose you as well, they told us that…So why did you agree to see me? I should have been suspicious when YOU were the ones who proposed a closed adoption. I just told you I had a pretty severe special educational need that many psychologists believe is inherited; a need that, as a teacher, you would know can cause serious disruption to learning along with extreme behavioural problems…and you brushed it off. My father just told you my mother died of a serious neurological condition that studies have PROVEN can be inherited, and you didn’t even ask for details. Oh, you asked all the right questions, but you screwed up by not acting like you cared about the answers-Because you don’t. You lied earlier. Oh, you’re not F.A.C-I bet you like to think you’re too educated to be part of that kind of extremism; that you’re above it; that you’re too caring…But you ARE very religious. Your necklace.” He pointed to the woman, who had tugged it out and was fingering it again nervously. She dropped it quickly, her cheeks flushing pink. “It’s emblematic of how much your faith means to you so you didn’t want to leave it at home-but you hid it beneath your sweater so we wouldn’t see it and realise. What a pity you have an unconscious habit of playing with it when you’re nervous. So, are you Baptist? No…” He turned to look at the man. “No, your accent’s Mid-West-I’m guessing Mormon.” His eyebrows jerked up, just for a split second. “I’m right, aren’t I? So what was it? You saw that a Carrier was on their books and decided to save the baby from a life of sin? But of course, if you’re going to raise a Carrier then you have to get it ‘Fixed’. Can’t have your son getting pregnant, or you daughter giving birth to more of us. I’m curious though-what would you have told your daughter when she tried to start a family but couldn’t? I guess you would have lied to her face and said she took after her mother. And what if it was a boy and he turned out to be a Carrier? What was your explanation going to be when he started bleeding every month?” He saw the horror on their faces and couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, we do that. But you obviously didn’t do your research, didn’t think about details because you were so wrapped up in your plan to save the innocent baby from its filthy Carrier parent. Not caring about details-That’s what usually trips people up. And that’s why you just got completely owned by a teenager.” He put his cap back on, swivelled it round and stood. “I don’t know who I’m going to give this baby to-But it sure as hell isn’t going to be you. Come on Dad, let’s go.” 

To his credit, his father didn’t hesitate. “Yes, let’s go. I think we’re done here.” He did, however, get to vent his own frustration on the way out. As they were passing a table, a man raised his camera phone. The Sheriff’s hand shot out, lighting quick, to catch his wrist, and he leaned forward to press his face into his. “He’s sixteen years old and a minor-and I’m a cop. Delete that now or I’ll book you for harassment so fast your head’ll fucking spin!”

The man obeyed. He shot everyone else in the café a warning look and then followed his son out the door.

 

 

Once home, they sat said-by-side on the couch in the living-room, staring into space. Eventually the Sheriff let out a weary sigh.

“Well…That was eventful. Didn’t turn out like I thought it would.”

“No. Sorry Dad.”

“Sorry nothin’. I was impressed…sometimes I forget just how clever you are.”

Stiles slumped back in his seat and looked down at his bump where it strained against his shirt. “I’m not that clever. I know they were the only ones willing to adopt this baby.”  
“Yep. Still, you didn’t want to give it to them because you knew they’d hurt it-Pretty good reason in my book. The rest we’ll figure out. I’m sure there’s another agency that will take you on.” He stood. “I’m going to the kitchen, you want anything?”

“Y’know,” Stiles looked up at him hopefully. “I could really use a beer.” 

“Nice try. I’ll get you a Coke.”

A few minutes later he was back with a Coke for Stiles and a Coors for himself. He handed Stiles the can and sat down again, taking a gulp of his beer. Stiles opened it with a hiss.

“Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When they first announced that they’d invented the operation, how come you and Mom didn’t make me have it? Why did you let me stay Intact?”

His father reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He suddenly looked so tired. 

“Well, first of all, because you were nine years old-I’m not going to force a nine year old to have painful surgery-I’m not a monster. Second of all, despite you often being a pain in my ass, I actually love being a father. Bringing a brand-new human being into the world, watching them grow and discover and learn-It’s a profound experience. I think in the real world it’s the closest thing we’ll ever have to magic. I wanted you to feel that. I don’t know- maybe you disagree, maybe you’re mad at me for not rushing you to the hospital and having you operated on the first chance I got-but you wanna know the truth? I hate that fucking operation. I hate the fact that some want it to be compulsory-Like they have the right to decide who’s worthy to give life and who isn’t; like they have the right to maim those they don’t understand; like the Nazi Sterilization Law never even happened. 400,000 people were operated on then because they weren’t deemed ‘good enough’, several thousand died, and we called it terrible, said it happened because the Nazis were evil, called it ‘Fascism’…And yet here we are, doing it again, and more people are dying. And I hate the terminology that’s grown up around it- You’re ‘Intact’ but a Carrier who’s had the operation is ‘Fixed’. Like you were born flawed. And all this from people who claim their God makes no mistakes. I’m not a smart or educated man. I didn’t go to college. But I can spot bullshit when I see it. And it’s all bullshit, all of it. I’m furious that he hurt you and I’m devastated that you’re now pregnant-But I don’t regret not getting you ‘Fixed’- because in my mind you were never broken.”

Stiles suddenly found himself blinking away tears. “But I thought…”

“You thought wrong. Just because I wasn’t sure how to handle what was happening with you doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Obviously I should have said it more.”

Stile shrugged. “That’s o.k. You’ve said it now.” And then his relief turned to amusement. He laid a hand on his chest and sighed dramatically. “And it was so beautiful Dad!”

His father turned to catch his eye, and they both burst out laughing. “Shut up!” He reached out and punched him on the arm before pulling him close. They both looked down at the swelling beneath his shirt. 

“We’ll work it out, kiddo. We always do.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say, so he simply rested his head on his father’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

 

*****************

 

“So how have we been feeling?” The Doc finished plugging the ultrasound machine in and turned to where Stiles was struggling onto the couch. “Here, let me help you.”

“No, no I’m good.” Stiles righted himself and flopped back onto the pillows, more tired than he’d like to admit. “No more nausea, but it hurts. My stomach muscles are killing me. And I’m huge! Am I supposed to get this big so fast?”

The Doc nodded. “It’s the shorter gestation; but you seem to be right on schedule. O.k, let’s have a feel.” He lifted Stiles’ gown and began to feel his bump, gently pressing. Stiles winced. “Bit tender?”

“Yes. Doc, I have a few questions.”

“Ask away, I’m a font of information.”

“I don’t need to shave anymore. Why is that?”

The Doc smiled. “That’s just due to the rise in Oestrogen from your pregnancy. It’s not permanent.”

A rise in Oestrogen-That’s what he’d been worried about. He felt himself grow red. “Also, my-my nipples have gone, like, a dark brown and they’ve gotten really big…Doc, am I growing boobs?”

He didn’t know whether to be reassured or not when Dr Stevens burst out laughing. “No, Stiles! Men developing breasts, or gynecomastia, is surprisingly common and can be due to puberty, hormone fluctuations, or weight gain…But no pregnant Carriers have ever been observed to develop full breasts. The most you will experience will be a slight swelling of the breast tissue- think something like the defined pecs of bodybuilders and other men who spend a lot of time in the gym- and the swollen nipples you’ve already described. Men have mammary glands, just like women. All they need to produce milk is for the Prolactine hormone to become hyperactive, which will happen to you after the birth.” 

“And what will happen if there’s no baby to feed?”

“Then the milk will simply dry up.” The Doc finished pressing his bump and lowered his gown before looking up at him. “So how did the meeting with the potential adoptive parents go?”

Stiles shook his head. “Not well. If my baby's a Carrier, they wanted to get it Fixed. I-I can’t keep it, but I’m not going to give it to just anyone…And definitely not to people who think the best thing would be to hurt it like that.”

The Doc nodded sagely. “Exactly. It’s not just a Carrier-It’s a person. I’m sure you can relate.” 

It’s a person…Stiles didn’t want to think too much about that. So he went back to his mentally-compiled list of questions. “Doc; about the birth…What’s going to happen exactly? Will it hurt?”

The Doc nodded as he carefully smoothed the ultrasound gel over his skin. “Yes, just like a female birth there will be some pain-But you will be provided with pain-relieving drugs, gas and air. Carrier births and female births are actually quite similar: your birth canal will swell and open, your waters will break, your uterus will dilate and then contractions will begin along with the urge to push. However, there is some degree of uncertainty…”

Stiles didn’t like the sound of that. “W-what do you mean uncertainty? Carriers have given birth before.”

The Doc nodded. “Yes, and we will talk over breathing techniques and birthing positions for a natural birth closer to the time. However, we’ve never before seen a pregnancy in an adolescent. Some adolescent girls struggle with natural birth as their bodies are not yet developed enough to handle the process. Like all Carriers, you have a slightly wider pelvis than non-Carrier men and a shorter coccyx, but it will still be interesting to see if you are developed enough to manage a natural birth.”

“And what if I can’t?”

Hearing the panic in his voice, the old man turned to fix him with a reassuring smile. “In that case, we will simply deliver the baby by C-section. It’s a routine operation and, although your baby is carried slightly higher in your body than in a female, I imagine the procedure will be much the same.” He reached to lay a hand on his arm. “Stiles, I know all this is frightening, but I’ve been your doctor since you were a baby. I promise that your safety and well-being is my top priority. Do you trust me?” He nodded. “Then let’s get on with this, shall we?” 

“O.k.” He lay back. The sonogram was pressed to his flesh; there was the usual crackling, and then that strange throbbing sound filled the room once more. For the first time, Stiles was relaxed enough to feel curious.

“Doc, what is that?”

“What?”

“That noise.”

Dr Stevens didn’t look away from the monitor. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat. Good and strong.”

Its heartbeat…It had a heartbeat. 

Of course he’d known that what was growing inside him was a baby- people had said it to him often enough after all-but to him it had always felt more like a parasite: a parasite placed there by force; a parasite that kept him up at night by dancing on his bladder, made him tired, and hungry, and sick...And scared. But no…It had a heart, just like him.  
It was human…A person…

And suddenly Stiles’ world seemed to tip on its axis as he realised for the first time that this wasn’t just about him. 

The Doc turned to look at him as he pushed himself more upright.

“Are you alright, Stiles?”

He nodded, chewing his thumbnail nervously. “Yes. Doc, can I see it? I want to see the baby.”

At first Dr Stevens looked surprised. Then his expression softened and he smiled. “Of course.” He got up from his stool and pushed the monitor round so that Stiles could see the screen. Stiles leaned closer, peering at the grainy black and white picture. “Here’s the head…There’s the mouth and nose…” Sure enough, he could just make out a tiny snubbed nose, just like his. “These little white dots are its spinal column, and here is its chest…Can you see its heart beating?” He nodded in amazement, completely awed at the sight of that tiny muscle flickering on the screen. “Here’s the legs and feet kicking away-Mustn’t like the feel of the sonogram. Oh, that’s interesting…”

“What?”

But the Doc didn’t answer. “And look here…” He pointed at what Stiles realised with wonder was a tiny hand, every miniscule finger bone standing out stark white against the grainy black background. “She’s waving at us. Guess she knows that you’re watching and wants to say hello.”

“Wow!” He breathed. Then something struck him. “Wait.” He looked up at the doctor. “You said ‘she’. It’s a girl?”

The old man nodded softly. “Yes. She just kicked her legs and gave us a peek. I suppose she wanted you to know-You’re having a healthy baby girl, Stiles.”

A baby girl.

Stiles couldn’t think of anything more innocent. He stared at the monitor, trying to drink in and memorise every detail, before something struck him. “Uh, Doc?”

“Yes?”

“Look, don’t tell my Dad I asked you for this…I know it’s stupid…I mean it’s not like I’m keeping it or anything, but…but could I get a picture? You know, like, of the scan? Just to keep? You do that, right?”

“Of course.” The Doc gave him a sad little smile. “It’s your baby, Stiles. Of course you can have a picture of it.” He turned back to the screen.

 

 

Later that night, Stiles lay in bed, listening. Soon enough, he heard his father’s footsteps on the stairs, the click as he turned off the landing light. He waited until he heard his bedroom door close before reaching beneath his pillow and tugging out the strip of scan pictures. He rolled onto his back to examine them. In one picture it was frozen in the act of kicking its legs, in another it had its hand at its mouth and he wondered if it would chew its nails like he did when he was nervous…

No, no not it-She.

It wasn’t a parasite or an alien-It was a girl; a tiny baby girl waiting to be born.

He used the tips of his fingers to trace the curve of her head, her legs and tiny feet, to stroke her cheek, to touch the tip of that snub nose he wished she hadn’t inherited. He’d made her-the very thought blew him away. Of course, Peter had had a hand in it, but she didn’t feel like his anymore. He couldn’t see anything of that monster in her. Instead all he could see was his own features, his own long fingers….And she could be a Carrier, too-just like him. 

He placed the tip of his finger on the palm of the tiny hand in one picture, his heart lurching as he imagined those tiny fingers closing around it. For the first time he felt strangely protective. 

Suddenly that familiar rolling, throbbing sensation started again-She was moving. His baby girl was moving, wriggling around inside him. 

This time it didn’t disturb him; he wasn’t frightened. Instead, he felt a new rush of tenderness. The world suddenly seemed to go soft and pink. Curious, he reached beneath his T-shirt to lay a hand on his bump, just below his navel, and pushed gently. “Hi.” He whispered into the darkness. 

He couldn’t help but gasp when he felt the baby push back.

 

 

The next morning he waited until he heard his father’s car pull out of the driveway before jumping out of bed, dressing quickly and heading for Scotts. It was a Saturday and his mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, so Stiles knew Scott would still be in bed. He let himself in and made his way up to his bedroom.

Sure enough, Scott was lying face-down in bed, mouth open, butt in the air, and snoring like a walrus on heat. Stiles cleared the mountain of dirty clothes from the chair opposite and tugged the scan photos from his pocket, fingering them thoughtfully as he sat down to wait. 

For a while Scott slept on, murmuring occasionally at some dream. Then he began to stir, kicking the sheets away from his body and turning his head until he was facing Stiles. His eyelids fluttered open.

“HOLY FUCK!” He started with fright, before falling back onto the bed and clutching at his chest, smacking the mattress with his fist as he panted. “WHAT THE HELL STILES! You almost gave me a heart attack! What…? How did you..? I’m taking that fucking key back! Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Didn’t want to…Fucking hell! Ring the bell next time, like a normal person!” Scott finally caught his breath and rolled over, pushing himself up onto one elbow and squinting at the pictures Stiles still held in his hand. “What’s that?”

“It’s…umm…Its scans of the baby.” Stiles tapped them against his hand nervously. “I’m having a girl, Scott.”

“Oh.” Scott saw the look on his friend’s face and sat up, pushing back the covers. “Come here.” Stiles went to sit beside him and he wrapped the duvet carefully round both their shoulders, just like when they were little, before turning his attention to the scans and taking them gently from his fingers. “Let me see.”

“There’s her head…And her feet…That’s a hand…And there’s her heart…” Stiles pointed each of them out. “Isn’t she tiny?”

“So she’s not an ‘it’ anymore?”

“No, I guess not.”

He turned to look at Stiles, his brow furrowing thoughtfully as his eyes searched his face, reading him as only a best friend could. “Stiles, what are you thinking?”

Stiles turned away from his stare, chewing nervously on his thumbnail. “That’s a baby, Scott-MY baby. I made her.”

“Yeah,” Scotts’ tone was cautious. “But so did Peter Hale. She’s his too.”

And he knew it was the truth…But, somehow, it didn’t matter anymore. “No. No she’s not. Because if I wasn’t a Carrier then she wouldn’t exist. Look Scott, just look.” He pointed. “She’s got my mouth, my nose…And she could be a Carrier, just like me. I refused to give her to those people we went to see yesterday because they wanted to get her Fixed if she was. But what if I do give her to a couple who, when she’s older, decide to make her have the operation? I won’t be there to protect her then. And that…that not being there…the thought of it just kills me.”

“So…what do you want?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. “I know what I don’t want anymore. I don’t want to just be some initials on a birth certificate. I don’t want to not know where she is, or how she’s doing, or if she’s safe. I don’t want to not know what she looks like two years, five years, ten years from now. I know this sounds stupid, but last night she was kicking again and-and it felt like it wasn’t just me anymore, y’know? It’s me and Bump.”

“Bump?”

“Well I don’t exactly own a baby name book or anything. Hence-Bump.”

Scott nodded. “Fair enough.” Then his smile faded and he grew serious. “So Stiles…What are you saying? What do you want to do?”

He took a deep breath, turning to look his best friend in the eye, suddenly more frightened than he’d been in a long time.

“I think I want to keep her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a question. This hasn't been getting as much hits as I'd hoped for and I know part of that is because it's an M-Preg and because it doesn't really focus on any Ships or have any steamy sex scenes. It's more a story. But I was wondering...Is it also to do with Derek being the bad guy? I can take or leave his character but I know some people really love him. I was thinking of changing Stiles attacker to Peter Hale as it doesn't matter that much to me but it might to readers. What do you guys think? Please leave a comment and let me know. *EDIT* I changed Stiles attacker to Peter. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much for your kudos, bookmarks, comments and for taking the time to read my wee story. It means so much to me. You guys are amazing! Please leave a comment or kudos on this chapter so I know what you think of it.


	8. Chapter Eight-Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to his father about keeping his baby. And Melissa uses a long-kept secret to help change Noah's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm soooooo sorry this is so late but I have a really good excuse! I was breaking up a fight at work and a kid managed to crack my wrist, making typing a much slower process! This chapter is shorter than my last ones as I wanted to get something up as soon as possible for you all, but I'm already three pages into the next chapter and I promise it will be done and posted this weekend. Thank you all so much for all your bookmarks, comments and kudos-I love you all so much! Also, can anyone tell me how to do Italics on this thing? it would make flash-backs so much clearer!

Chapter Eight- Family

 

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GOD-DAMN MIND?!” Stiles’ father stood, kicking his chair away from the kitchen table with a clatter. “YOU’RE SIXTEEN YEARS OLD!”

He marched over to the sink, gripping onto its edge as if for support as he gazed out the window to the cluttered yard beyond. 

“I’m aware of that Dad…” Stiles was careful to keep his voice calm. He watched his fathers’ back, noting how his shoulders shook with rage. 

“You’re just a kid! You have no idea what being a parent entails. You couldn’t keep a hamster alive, Stiles, never mind a baby!”

“I kept us alive.” 

When his father spun to face him Stiles could see past his anger to the hurt beneath. When he spoke there was an edge of warning to his tone. “Don’t you dare.”

But Stiles wasn’t afraid of him and he could be just as stubborn. He stood, jutting out his chin in defiance. “I did! After Mom died, while you drank, I was the one who made sure this place was clean, who got you up and off to work in the mornings, myself to school. I was the one who made sure the bills were paid, got the groceries…Who kept us fed.” 

He hated having to bring it up, knew how much it hurt him. But it had to be said. He wasn’t some stupid, feckless teenager. He knew exactly what real responsibility was.  
A flicker of guilt passed over his father’s face; then he scowled. “You have no idea what you’d be getting yourself into!” He pointed a finger at Stiles’ bump. “You can’t keep that baby Stiles! I won’t allow it! YOU ARE PUTTING IT UP FOR ADOPTION AND THAT’S FINAL!”

Stiles was bruised by his anger; but he’d expected this response- That’s why he’d been up all night on the Forum doing research and asking for advice. “It’s MY body. That’s what no one ever seems to get. Not the doctors and nurses, not you…Not Peter Hale.” His father flinched at mention of his sons’ rapist. “It’s MY body and MY baby so I’m the one who gets to choose. I’m sorry Dad, but the reality is that you don’t really get a say.” He reached for the pile of print-outs on the kitchen table and held them up for him to see. “Legal precedent. I may only be sixteen, but legally I have parental rights. Two years ago there was a case up in Denver where Social Services tried to remove a baby from its father purely because the father was a Carrier. The court ruled that Carriers have the same parental rights as mothers over their children. I’m its father, it’s my baby. I’m the one who decides what happens to it, not you.”

His father was shaking with rage now. “Well I’m YOUR father and you’re MY baby and I won’t have you ruining your life! And I thought you wanted to be a cop, not a fucking lawyer!”

“I wouldn’t be ruining my life…”

“What about school, huh? And you could kiss goodbye to college…”

“I have a plan…If you’d just listen…”

“Oh, you have a plan?!” His voice dripped sarcasm. “Oh, well that’s o.k then! You’re a child with no qualifications, no job and no idea how to look after an infant, but it’s all going to be just fine…Because you have a plan!” He turned away, rolling his eyes, and Stiles clenched his fists in frustration. 

“DAD, JUST LISTEN TO ME!”

But his father had already snatched up his jacket and was marching towards the door. He stopped just before he reached it, spinning on his heel to fix Stiles with a warning glare. He jabbed a finger at him. “We’ll sort out this bullshit when I get home. Until then I don’t want you to set foot outside this house, understand me?”

“Y’know, I’m getting pretty fucking sick of being under house arrest.…”

“YOU’RE PREGNANT!” The force of his father’s yell cut him off, making Stiles weaver, despite himself. The sheriff turned and gestured towards the window and the world outside. “You’re pregnant and there are people out there who will not hesitate to make your life hell because of it! Who might even hurt you because of it! So for the love of God Stiles, do what you are fucking told for once, and DON’T LEAVE THIS HOUSE! Do you understand me? DO YOU?!”

“SIR, YES SIR!” It was a response designed to mock. 

His father nodded. “Fine, if that’s the way you want to play it. But don’t forget, Stiles, I’m your father. I know how your sneaky little mind works.” He reached into his jacket pocket and held up a set of keys- Stiles’ car keys. Stiles groaned inwardly. “So I’ll be keeping these. We’ll discuss this further when I get home.”

He marched from the room. 

Stiles heard the front door slam, heard the keys click in the lock, the screech of tires as he pulled out of the driveway. He waited until he was sure he was far enough away before tugging a flattened butter knife from his pocket. The old door lock gave way easily and he hurried down the steps to his jeep. Once he reached it he tugged the screwdriver from its hiding place behind the spare tire and used it to jimmy open the door, before climbing inside and sticking it into the ignition. He couldn’t help but grin as the engine chugged to life-For a Sheriff’s son he had the potential to be quite the criminal. 

He reversed out into the road and headed straight for Scott’s house. It was a Monday so Scott would be in school…

But it wasn’t Scott he wanted to talk to.

 

***************************************

 

Melissa was sitting at the kitchen counter, reading a magazine, sipping coffee and enjoying the rare peace and quiet. At the sound of the front door opening, she looked up.

“SCOTT?”

“No, Stiles.”

She turned to find him hovering uncertainly in the doorway, hands shoved deep into the pockets of the jeans she’d altered with an elastic panel to fit his expanding bump. 

“Scott’s in school.”

“I know. I-I was wondering if we could talk, like, you and me?” With his nervousness and huge brown eyes he put her in mind of a little woodland animal. 

“Of course, honey. Come in.” She watched as he shuffled across the kitchen to lean against the cupboards. He was still very much an adolescent, tall but all angles, with the lankiness that came from a recent growth spurt, his baby face still unable to grow a proper beard. A child thrust into an adult world, forced to grow up far too quickly-But then, she knew that had happened long before all this happened. “Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee?” He looked up at her hopefully. “I know caffeine’s bad for the baby but I’m craving coffee so bad…”

“One cup a day is fine.” She rose from her seat and put on a fresh pot before turning to look at him. His bump was much bigger than the last time she’d seen him, protruding almost grotesquely from his slender body, barely covered by his high school sweatshirt. He chewed his thumbnail nervously, one hand trailing down to rub over it. “So, how are you feeling?” At the sound of her voice his head jerked up, eyes wide, and she decided to try and lighten the mood. “Wait, don’t tell me…You’re exhausted, your back is killing you, you haven’t seen your feet in a month, you have to pee every five seconds but you can’t poop and you’re pretty sure there are Hippos in Africa smaller than you are. Am I right?”

For a second he just stared at her-Then he burst out laughing. “Yeah, pretty much. The other day I dropped my phone on the living room floor and I just had to leave it there-because I knew if I went down to get it then I’d never make it back up. I’d just be stuck there, lying on the floor like an up-turned turtle until Dad got home. I miss being able to bend! And I’m wearing these…” He pointed to his ancient converse sneakers. “…because they’re the only shoes that fit. What’s that about?”

“Oh that’s normal. They just don’t tell you about it.” She handed him a cup of coffee. “I went up two shoe sizes when I was pregnant with Scott.” She gestured to the counter. “Want to sit down?”

He took a drink and shook his head. “Can’t manage bar stools anymore.” 

“Then let’s go to the couch.” He followed her to the living room and sat down beside her, shifting around to find a comfortable position. She watched him, taking in his pale, pinched face, the dark rings around each eye. “Seriously though, how are you feeling? Have you been getting any sleep?”

He shrugged. “A bit. I still dream about it-what he did- But not as much now.” He avoided her gaze.

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

She fought the urge to take him in her arms, instead reaching out to stroke his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, obviously starved for affection, before remembering himself and pulling away, blushing in embarrassment. 

“The baby keeps me awake. She’s moving a lot now, especially at night.”

“It’s a girl?”

He nodded. “The Doc told me. And I’ve decided to keep her.” His voice was filled with defiant determination. 

This wasn’t news to her, Scott had already told her Stiles’ plans. 

“You know that it’s going to be tough, right? That from the moment she is born everything in your life has to revolve around that little girl?” He nodded. “Have you told your father you’re keeping her?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t think I can do it. But I can. You know I can.” 

Of course she did. After all, she’d been at the hospital the day Claudia had died, had been changing a patient’s drip when he’d appeared beside her, tugged at her sleeve and said calmly ‘Sorry Mrs McCall, but I think my Mommy’s dead.’ She’d seen him at the grave-side, standing in his little suit, fighting back his own tears as beside him his father had fallen apart. He’d managed that house so well that it had been a year and a half before anyone had realised how bad Noah’s drinking had become again. And then it was only after he’d arrived at work wasted. She remembered receiving a concerned phone call from his deputy and arriving at the house to find Noah passed out on the couch with a blanket tossed over him, a basin and glass of water on the floor beside him. Stiles had been in the kitchen cooking spaghetti for their dinner, a cheque for the electric bill sitting on the table filled out in his childish scrawl. He’d been eleven. 

Even now she felt a twinge of guilt. She’d promised Claudia that she’d look out for him and she’d let her best friend down. Now here he was, looking at her appealingly with the same huge golden brown eyes as his mother; a teenager now, desperate for someone to fight his corner with him so he wouldn’t have to do it alone. 

“Yeah,” She nodded. “I know you can. He’s just worried about you Stiles. He wants you to have a future.”

“I can still have one. I’ve worked it out.” Of course he had. Stiles may have been hyperactive and goofy, but he was also whip-smart, strong and resourceful as hell…Because that’s what life had forced him to be. “I’ll go back to school and stay as long as I can until the birth. Then I’ll make the rest up in summer school. That way I’ll still pass the year. I’ll get an after-school job to pay for childcare. There’s a nursery just ten minutes away from school-I can drop her off there in the mornings and pick her up after work. I may have to take a year or two out after high school but I’ve heard you can do some of the police training and the first exam by correspondence. But I need my dad on-side as I need him to get me practical experience in the department…And I have nowhere else to live.”

Obviously his plan had a lot of flaws, but she wasn’t about to point them out. Instead she took a deep breath, letting it out in a low whistle. “Going back to school. As a Carrier who’s four months pregnant. You know that’s going to be hard, right?”

He shrugged. “Yeah well, life’s hard.” 

Of course, for him that was all it had ever been. 

“I take it you want me to talk to him?”

He nodded, sucking in his lower lip. “Could you? He won’t listen to me but maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Maybe. I’ll try anyway. Does he know you’re here?”

“No. He forbade me from leaving the house.”

“And you obviously don’t care.”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

She sighed. “Yes, way to show him how mature you are!” She scolded him gently. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he’s trying to protect you, Stiles. Stop making it so hard for him and maybe he’ll listen more.” She rose, taking his empty coffee cup from his hands. “If he comes home and finds you gone he’ll have a heart attack. I’d better go call him.”

She went to the kitchen and rinsed both of their cups in the sink, before calling Noah’s cell. He didn’t pick up so she left a message. 

She got back to the living-room to find Stiles asleep, stretched out the full length of the couch and snoring softly. She lifted a throw and draped it gently over him before perching on the arm of the couch and reaching down to stroke his hair. As she did she remembered Claudia’s first words to her after hearing her diagnosis was terminal.

‘Promise me when I go you’ll look out for my son, Melissa. Noah won’t be able to cope with him alone, I know it. Promise me you’ll make sure my baby is alright.’

How prophetic Claudia’s words had turned out to be. Stiles stirred a little in his sleep, letting out a whimper.

“Shhh, it’s o.k” She soothed him. “Sweetheart, it’s o.k.  
”  
She should have kept him, she knew that now. She should have never given him back…. 

 

**************************

 

She was waiting on the porch when Noah’s squad car pulled up in the drive. She’d spent most of the last hour psyching herself up for an argument, but when he got out he looked more exhausted than anything else. 

“So he’s at your house?”

“Yeah, passed out cold on the couch.”

“How the hell did he even get there? I’ve got his car keys.”

“It’s Stiles, Noah. He probably hot-wired the jeep.”

He considered this and then nodded in agreement. “Probably. I take it he’s told you about his stupid plan to keep this baby?”

“Yep.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll listen when I tell you that he’s my kid and it’s none of your god-damn business?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I promised Claudia I’d help you out with him; I never promised her I’d listen to you.”

“Fine.” He walked past her, unlocked the front door and shoved it open. “Then come on in, why don’t you?”

 

She followed him inside.

 

In the kitchen, she took the beer he offered and sat down at the table, watching him as he sipped his own. He looked so tired, so exasperated with everything. He wasn’t a bad man- she knew that. But Claudia’s death had been a blow he’d never quite recovered from, and now he was in way over his head. He’d never been strong, not like his wife…Not like his son. 

“So…You think I should let him keep it?”

“I think all you can really do is support his choice.”

“Even if it’s insane? Even if it ruins his life?”

“Who says it will?”

He ran a hand across his face in frustration. “ME! I say it will! He’ll have to drop out of school completely; he won’t be able to go to college...And he won’t be able to cope. He’s a child Melissa! A sixteen year old child! Children can’t have children. And what if those religious Fascists protesting in Washington find out, huh? They could hurt him, maybe even kill him. No,” He shook his head violently, as if shaking all other options from his mind. “No, he’s giving that baby away. And that’s final.”

And she didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to hurt him…But there was a stubborn determination in his eyes, in the set of his jaw, that told her she had no other choice. She set her beer down carefully.

“You mean the way you gave him away?”

*************************************  
FLASH-BACK  
*************************************

 

It had been past midnight on a stormy night a month after Claudia’s funeral when she’d been woken by a frantic pounding on the door.

“Mommy?” She’d sat up to find Scott standing by her bed in his pyjamas, his eyes wide with fright. “Mommy, are we being burgled?”

“I don’t think so Sweetie. Go back to bed.” She’d shooed him back into his room before lifting the baseball bat she kept by her bed and making her way downstairs. The banging had become louder, echoing through the house, and she’d been shaking as she’d unlocked the door, had raised the bat to her shoulder as she’d opened it…

…To find Noah standing on the doorstep dressed only in his pyjama pants and a T-shirt, obviously drunk out of his mind. In his arms he’d held a bundle, wrapped tightly in a quilt. The rain had been lashing down, sticking his hair to his scalp, dripping down his face and soaking into his clothes. At the sight of her he’d lurched forward, before stumbling to a stop just outside the door. 

“Noah, what the fuck?! What are you doing?”

He’d started to rave, slurring his words, eyes rolling in his head. “I can’t Melissa! I just can’t! I just can’t do it without her! He-he keeps standing there looking at me, expecting me to fix everything and I just-I just…I’m not good enough, I’m just not good enough! I don’t know how to be a parent! He-he fell…I-I think he was sleep-walking…He wouldn’t stop crying! He wouldn’t shut up! And I didn’t know what to do! I can’t do this!”

“Do what? Noah, have you lost your mind?! It’s pouring, you’re getting soaked! Come inside!”

But he’d shaken his head, tears pouring down his cheeks and mixing with the rain. “I-I just can’t do this! You take him! Please, Melissa, please…PLEASE TAKE HIM!”

He’d shoved the bundle into her arms and she’d found Stiles looking up at her with wide, terrified eyes. His lip was split, his nose bloody. She’d cradled him to her chest, staring at Noah in horror as he’d backed away from her.

“I-I’ll give you money for his keep, I’ll visit him, but I just…I need you to take him. You were her best friend; she’d want you to have him… I can’t…I can’t raise him without her…I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

She’d gaped at him, aghast. “Noah, you can’t just leave him! NOAH!” 

But he’d already run back to the car. All she could do was watch in shock as he’d taken off down the drive, swerved out onto the road and vanished, leaving his ten year old son behind.

 

Stiles had clung to her as she’d carried him upstairs, his little heart beating against hers like a frightened rabbits, his teeth chattering with cold. In the bathroom she’d sat down on the closed toilet seat and carefully unwrapped the quilt. Beneath it he’d been dressed in only his underwear, his skinny little body shivering violently. She’d stripped him naked, lifted warm towels from the radiator and swaddled him in them, before trying to rub some heat back into his limbs.

“I-I fell downstairs.” 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

He’d seemed too shocked and confused to cry. 

“Mommy?” She’d turned to find Scott standing in the doorway. “Why is Stiles here?”

She’d forced herself to smile. “He’s come for a sleep-over. But he’s forgotten his pyjamas. Do you think he could borrow some of yours?”

“Sure.” 

Scott had run excitedly back to his room, and she’d finished drying Stiles off and carried him to her bedroom. Once there she’d pulled back the covers and laid him gently down on the bed, where he’d stared curiously up at her, naked and innocent as a new-born. 

“Was I bad tonight? Is that why Daddy gave me to you?”

“No.” She’d bitten back her tears and reached down to rub the silky soft skin on his little tummy. “No, baby, you weren’t bad. Your daddy’s not feeling well, that’s all.”

“So, do I live with you now?”

She hadn’t known how to answer that. Thankfully Scott had arrived back at that moment, waving a pair of Spiderman pyjamas for Stiles, and she hadn’t had to. She’d dressed him and tucked them both up in bed beside her, blocking out the noise of the storm with stories and lullabies until they’d fallen asleep. Then she’d raised herself up on one elbow to look down at them, snuggled up together, dark heads side by side, like a set of twins, and wondered if Noah had been serious or just drunk; and if he had, if she’d be able to cope with two. She’d tugged the duvet back to examine Stiles, running her fingers over his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, the tips of his ears…He was perfect-The perfect little boy. She’d reached down to touch his hand and her heart had lurched as his little fist closed tightly around her fingers. 

She couldn’t even begin to understand why anyone would want to give him away.

 

********************************************  
END FLASHBACK  
********************************************

 

In the end it had been a month before Noah had sobered up and come to his senses, and even then it had taken her arriving at the house with a solicitors’ letter and threatening to go for full custody. Thankfully Stiles only vaguely remembered it now as the time after his mom died when he’d gone to stay with them so his father could grieve. The truth would only hurt him. 

Noah sat down opposite her, his expression filled with shame at the memory. “I know I’ve been a shit father to the boy, you don’t need to remind me.”

She shook her head. “You were half-mad with grief, drinking heavily-At that time you did what you thought was best for him-and perhaps it was. But during that month without him, did you miss him?” He nodded, his face twisting in pain. “Even though you weren’t coping, even though you were sure it was for the best, did you ever regret giving him to me?” 

He nodded, his light blue eyes misting with tears. “Every day.”

“And can you imagine how you would have felt if I’d gotten custody? If you’d lost him for good?” He nodded again. “Then why do you want Stiles to feel that pain?”

At her words he seemed to relent a little. “O.k, so say he does keep it…I don’t even know how the hell we’d manage it all, y’know? I mean, I know The Doc would keep the birth a secret, and afterwards I was thinking that we could pretend we’d adopted it or something…But he’s talking about going back to school while still pregnant! How the hell could we manage that? See if the school would educate him in a separate room? Hire tutors maybe? I have no fucking idea Melissa!”

She took a deep gulp of her beer and set it down carefully on the table between them. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve been thinking…Why not just let it all come out?”

He looked at her as if she were insane. “What?! Are you crazy? I don’t know how many people round here agree with those F.A.C maniacs but I am not taking the risk.”

She nodded in understanding. “I’m not going to lie- some might. But it’s easy to hate some nameless, faceless ‘other’ that some guy on the TV keeps blaming for all the world’s problems; It’s a lot harder to hate the teenager who used to babysit your kids for pocket money, who’s mother’s funeral you attended when he was just ten years old.”

“Melissa…” He was already shaking his head but she forged on anyway.

“Yes, this is a small town where everybody knows everybody’s business and rumours spread like wildfire-But it’s also a place where people are pretty supportive of one another. When I finally threw Rafe out and everyone found out it was because he’d been violent I was mortified…But I actually ended up with a long line of neighbours telling me how he was a no-good son of a bitch, and too many casseroles to fit in the fridge.” 

“This isn’t like that…”

She sighed, exasperated. “Come on Noah, you’re the local Sheriff! Everyone knows you, everyone knew Claudia, and everyone knows Stiles. Stiles Stilinski-Can be a pain in the ass but generally a nice kid. There’s no way they’d hate Stiles, they couldn’t…especially when they find out what happened to him.” At the mention of it Noah turned away so she couldn’t seem him fighting back his disgust, his tears. “That’s a big part of your problem with this, isn’t it?”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, his anguish plain to see. “You didn’t read it, Melissa. You didn’t have to read about how a predator waited until your child was alone before attacking him, how he held him down, how he got off on him screaming and struggling…how…how he knew he was a virgin by how-how tight he was…How he bled.”

“And now your child wants to have that monsters’ baby.”

“I remember what he did to me.” They both turned to see Stiles standing in the doorway. “I remember every second of it.”

Melissa looked from son to father and knew that it was time for her to leave. She stood, tapping the table to get Noah’s attention. “Just hear him out, Noah. You owe him that.”  
She paused in the act of passing Stiles to kiss him on the cheek and give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be o.k kiddo, you’ll see.”

 

“Thanks Melissa.” Stiles watched her go before turning back to his father. “I remember him on top of me, I remember how I screamed for help and no one came, I remember the pain.”

“Then why do you want to have his baby?”

Stiles tugged out a chair and sank down into it, resting his chin in his hands. “Because what he did wasn’t her fault; because, in a way, she’s as much his victim as I am…And because she isn’t really his at all. If I’d been normal she wouldn’t exist-It was my body that made her. She’s mine.”

“She?”

He nodded, one hand moving down to his bump. “Yes, my daughter…Your grand-daughter.” At those words his father seemed to soften somehow, the anger fading from his eyes. “You, me and Mom…We were a family…And then suddenly we weren’t. But we could be a family again-You, me and her. I can do this without you Dad, but I don’t want to. So I’m asking you to please respect my choice and help me with it.”

“I’m just scared for you.”

“I know. I’m scared too. Terrified.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scan pictures, pushing them slowly across the table towards his father. “But I can’t give her up, Dad, I just can’t.”

He stood and left the room without looking back. 

Left alone in the kitchen, Noah picked up the pictures, contemplating them thoughtfully.

 

Later that night Stiles was lounging on the couch, half dozing, half watching some dumb reality show, when an almighty thump sounded above his head. He struggled upright and rushed to the bottom of the stairs.

“DAD?”

From somewhere above came another thump, followed by a whole lot of swearing.

“Oh for Christ’s sake! FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUUUCK!”

“DAD, ARE YOU O.K?”

No reply. 

Concerned, Stiles climbed the stairs and followed the string of expletives to his bedroom. He pushed the door open slowly, half-expecting to find his father having some kind of heart-attack on the rug, and stared.

His father sat at the end of his bed, surrounded by screws, screwdrivers and bits of slatted wood painted white. It took Stiles a few seconds to realise what they were meant to be.  
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?”

He looked around him at the mess and sighed heavily. “It’s your old crib from the attic. I realised I’d been an asshole, but you know I’m not that great with the hugging and talking shit, so I figured I’d make it up to you in a practical way. However, I’d forgotten that your mother had developed a fondness for a certain flat-pack supplying furniture shop around the time you were born. It turns out Ikea is actually Swedish for ‘Fuck you.’”

“Oh…Figures.” Stiles picked his way through the detritus to sit on the bed beside him. “So…Where are the instructions?”

“Real men don’t need instructions.”

“Yeah. Maybe we could just wrap it in duct tape and call it a day?”

“This isn’t your Jeep, Stiles.”

“No. It’s a crib for my baby.” He turned to look at him, taking in how tired he looked, and was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of gratitude. “Thanks Dad.”

His father reached to give his shoulder a squeeze and they smiled at each other.But Stiles’ smile quickly turned to a wince as, inside him, the baby began to move and kick. His father saw the change in his expression and became concerned.

“What? What is it? Are you o.k?”

Stiles nodded. “It’s just the baby kicking.” An idea struck him and he looked up at him hopefully. “Do you want to feel?” For a moment his father seemed unsure, then he took a deep breath and nodded. “Here.” Stiles took his hand and rested it carefully over his bump. “Wait…” He was relieved when, at the feel of the baby’s kick, the Sheriff’s face split into a grin. 

“So, it’s a little girl in there?”

“Yep. You’re grand-daughter. You’re going to be a Grandpa, Dad.” 

Despite himself, his father’s expression filled with emotion, his eyes seeming to shine with tears. Then he caught himself. He pulled his hand away and turned back to the mess of screws and washers on the floor. When he spoke it was with a renewed sense of purpose.

“Right, go get me a screwdriver and a beer!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much form reading! Please leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think of this chapter and I will love you forever!
> 
> Next time....Stiles has his first day back at school where he makes a few enemies, and discovers friends he never knew he had. Allison let's her emotions get in the way and makes a dangerous mistake....


	9. Chapter Nine-Choice and Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes back to school, where he finds new enemies...and new friends. And Allison makes a terrible mistake...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, again so sorry that this is a bit late...I've been typing one-handed because of my broken wrist but now the other wrist has been getting sore so I had to keep taking breaks to rest it! However, to make up for the wait I have written you the longest chapter of this story so far! Thank you so much for all the views, bookmarks, comments and kudos! The really motivate me to keep going! You are all amazing!

Chapter Nine-Choice and Consequence.

 

The room was a flurry of activity; people rushing back and forth, fetching and carrying, feet thumping on the floor and stairs. Drills whirred and hammers pounded as heavy bolts were fixed to the door, boards nailed across the narrow windows to block out all light, mattresses nailed to the walls to muffle all sound. People pushed past her, dragging or carrying random objects-The door from the tiny WC, the kids’ bicycles, cans of paint, fold-away chairs-clearing the space so it was ready for its new purpose. As they worked the rest of the Family chatted, shouted instructions to one another, joked and laughed. 

Allison, alone, was silent. She stood in the middle of it all and watched with a sense of trepidation as, slowly but surely, one bolt at a time, the basement around her became a prison. A movement caught her eye and she looked up. Above her, a young black man called Simon balanced precariously at the top of a tall ladder, tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he finished screwing a surveillance camera into place just above the doorway. He angled it carefully so it would capture the whole room-A cold, mechanical eye to watch over their hostage. 

“I still think this is fucking insanity, Gerard!” She turned at the sound of her father’s voice to see him and her grandfather huddled together in a back corner. “We should have rented someplace further out of town…”

“And risk a paper-trail?” Her grandfather arched an eyebrow mockingly. “Once it gets out that the Abomination has been taken, the FBI will be watching every road in and out of this town and everyone in it. They see the same people leaving the same way every day, once or twice a day, and they’re going to come asking questions. Better to hide it in plain sight.”

“Still, you don’t shit in your own back yard!” 

“Josef Fritzl managed to keep his daughter and four children hidden in a basement for ftenty-four years. We’re talking about one man for a few weeks; a couple of months at most.” 

“We’re using Joseph Fritzl as a role model now?!” Her father turned away, wiping a hand over his mouth, his face a mask of disgust. “Jesus Christ!”

“We’re taking a stand Christopher! And don’t you forget that!” 

A loud thump behind her made Allison jump. She turned to find Jonas straightening a grimy mattress on the floor with his foot- A bed for their hostage. He saw her watching and his lips curled into an amused sneer. “So Princess, are you going to actually help or what?”

She nodded, hiding her growing uncertainty behind a mask of determination. “Yeah. I’ll go find a pillow and blankets.” 

She turned on her heel…Only to stop when she heard him snort.

“Yeah, sure, see can you find Egyptian cotton sheets while you’re at it. It’s an animal, you stupid bitch. Animals don’t need blankets.” 

She froze, fists clenching in anger at his sudden insult, his sneering tone. But at the same time, she knew she had made a mistake by making it seem, for a moment, like she cared. She took a deep breath and composed herself. When she turned back to him, it was with a sneer all her own. “Yeah, but they can get hypothermia. It can get down to minus two down here at night, you moron! It’s no use to us dead!”

“She’s right.” They both looked up to find Kate standing between them, holding a large cardboard box. “Go tell someone to find some blankets, Jonas.” She fixed him with a warning glare. For a moment he hesitated…Then he scowled and stalked away, making Allison wonder if she’d gotten the dynamics of their relationship all wrong. “Here,” Kate flashed her an excited smile and held up the box as if it was full of treasure. “You can help me with this.”

When she set it on the floor the contents clinked and jangled metallically. Allison crouched down beside her as she opened it.

“What’s in it?”

“Presents for our guest.”

She reached inside and began to lift out a collection of items that seemed more at home in some torture chamber or pervert’s dungeon. She lined them up carefully on the dusty concrete floor- A black cotton hood, a leather blindfold, a roll of black duct tape, lengths of thick chain with heavy padlocks, and four sets of heavy shackles. 

Jonas marched over and lifted one of the chains, dragging it across to where two of the other men had just finished setting a steel ring into the floor. He threaded one end of the chain through the ring, fastening it with a padlock. He turned to see the curiosity in her stare and wrapped the other end around his throat, like a collar.

“Gonna keep the freak chained up like a dog!” He laughed, revealing his tobacco-stained teeth, and the other men laughed with him.

Alison turned back to find that Kate had lifted a set of shackles and was stretching them taunt, testing their strength. When she looked up from them to her niece, her grin was salacious with sadistic pleasure. 

“These should hold the big bastard!”

At first Allison’s grin mirrored her aunt’s…then she thought back to what her father had said and a gut-wrenching vision began to form in her mind-A terrified little boy huddled in the dark, a chain wrapped round his throat, heavy shackles binding his tiny hands, his sobs muffled by the tape across his mouth. She told herself that this thing they were taking-this Carrier-wasn’t human, that it didn’t matter…But still the mental image refused to go away, making her stomach churn and bile rise in her throat. Kate noticed the smile vanish from her lips. “What’s wrong?”

“W-what if Dad’s right? What if it’s not an adult? What if it’s a kid?”

At first Kate looked annoyed. Then all emotion faded from her face. She shrugged and turned her attention back to the shackles, turning them this way and that, stroking them with her fingertips as if relishing the chance to use them. When she next spoke her tone was ice-cold. “Y’know, I hope it is. A kid would be easier to catch.”

“Maybe…but it would still be a kid.”

Kate huffed out an irritated sigh and glared pointedly at her. “Yeah, a kid whose existence means I can’t have any…YOU can’t have any.” She flinched as if Kate had raked a nail over a still-fresh wound. “A kid who is really a monster hiding in plain sight, infecting everything around it. Remember that, Allison, if at any time you start to feel sorry for this thing. Remember what it and its kind took from us.”

She was right. Of course she was right. Allison pushed that horrible vision to the back of her mind and nodded. “I will.”

 

*********************************

 

The school had been a lot more understanding than Stiles had expected. They’d reduced his timetable, offered him a pass so he could leave class early to avoid the crowds, and informed the school nurse, although Stiles highly doubted she’d be any use if he suddenly went into labour. An e-mail had been sent to the parents of every pupil in the school to inform them that a Carrier was attending the school without naming him specifically. It had also clearly stressed the schools Duty of Care to EVERY pupil and reminded parents of their Inclusion and Anti-Bullying Policies. Still, as Stiles stood uncertainly at the school entrance with his book-bag on his shoulder, he felt like a boxer psyching himself up to go into the ring. 

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” He looked up to where Scott stood beside him, his face a mask of concern. “Because if you’ve changed your mind…If it’s too much…”

Adrenaline pounded through his veins making his hands sweat, his heart pound in his chest. Fight or flight; Now or never. He had to choose.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Yep. Let’s do this.”

 

As soon as they walked through the classroom door the room fell silent. Stiles found himself looking at a sea of wide eyes, kids he’d known since kindergarten who were now gaping at him as if he were an alien. 

“Stiles.” He turned to find his English and Home Room teacher, Mrs Hatman, flashing him a reassuring smile from behind her desk. He liked her, had always been able to make her laugh. For the first time he realised that the fondness went both ways. “Your hall pass.” As he leant down to take it from her hands, she made a point of whispering to him. “You’re a brave kid, Stiles. You got this.”

He wasn’t so sure. He turned to watch as Scott went to give Allison a peck on the cheek before sitting down behind her. She barely seemed to register his kiss, too busy staring at Stiles in something akin to abject horror. That stung. She was supposed to be his friend. But, then, maybe it was just the shock. Suddenly the distance down the aisle to his desk seemed to stretch for miles. He took a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

As soon as he started walking the whispering and giggling started.

“Oh my God! It’s Stiles Stilinski!”

“Stiles is the Carrier!”

“ Look at his belly! Is he…? Oh my God!"

“Holy shit, Stiles is a Carrier and he’s fucking pregnant!”

“Didn’t even know he was gay!”

“You’re a freak Stalinski!”

“Stiles likes it in the ass!”

“Whose is it Stalinski? McCall’s? Always knew you two were faggots!”

“But he looks so…Normal…Like, it’s just Stiles.”

“Normal? You mean, apart from the massive baby bump?!”

“I don’t get it. I’ve known him forever!”

“You’re on the team with him, right? Did you ever see anything?”

“Nope, just thought he was a normal dude!”

“So is he a guy? A girl? In between?”

“Jeez Stalinski, you and your boyfriend never heard of a rubber? Slut!”

“I can’t believe we never knew! Do you think the school knew?”

Suddenly a leg shot out, blocking his path. He looked up to find Jackson glaring at him, his handsome face twisted in disgust, his blue eyes blazing, as Lydia huddled beside him looking embarrassed. “Freaks like you shouldn’t be allowed in a school. Christ only knows what we could catch.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at him. “It’s a gene, not a virus. It’s not catching.”

Suddenly the loud scrape of a chair being pushed back cut through the whispering and they all turned to see Allison swinging her bag onto her shoulder. Her face was an alarming shade of green. 

“I-I’m sorry. Miss Hatman, I have to go to the bathroom. I feel sick.”

When Stiles looked at her, he was hurt to see that she couldn’t even meet his eye. 

She rushed from the room and Scott jumped to his feet, glancing at their teacher.

“I’d better go see if she’s alright.”

Mrs Hatman nodded and he hurried after her. 

“See?” Jackson sneered at him as he ran a hand casually through his blonde hair. “She’s scared of you. I bet all the girls are. Everyone knows Carriers are rapists.”

That cut deep. “No-no that’s a lie.” Then, as he turned to look at his classmates gawping at him, he suddenly realised something-Some of them, like Jackson, were being genuinely nasty; but a lot of them were just curious. How could they understand anything about Carriers when they’d never consciously talked to one before? When all they heard were lies and rumours? Well, now he had the chance to set the record straight.

He snatched up the nearest empty chair, carried it to the front of the room, set it down with a thump and sat down on it in front of them all, hands on his thighs.

“Ok, let’s deal with this. Here’s the thing-I’m a Carrier of the C919394 gene. I was raped, and now I’m four months pregnant. If you’ve got any questions you might as well ask them now while you have the chance.”

For a moment there was a stunned silence…Then a dark-haired girl slowly raised her hand. “Yes, Tracey?”

The girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “So, umm, are you, like, a hermaphrodite or..? I’m sorry if that’s offensive. And what pronoun do you like to go by? He…She…They?”

He shook his head, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s not offensive. I’d rather you ask. No. Hermaphrodites are people who are born with both male and female genitalia. I was born male. I have guy parts. But because I carry the C919394 gene I also have extra organs and body parts that enable me to get pregnant and carry a baby. They’re not exactly like what a woman would have, they’re different. But I’m a ‘he’.” Another girl raised her hand. “Yep?”

“So, is it true that Carriers…ummm…That they cause infertility in girls?”

He shook his head. “No. That’s just right-wing propaganda. There’s no biological way our existence could cause that and no actual evidence for the claim that female infertility is rising. Most of the time it’s more likely to be an inherited condition in the woman’s family.” A tanned, dark-haired boy raised his hand. “Yes, Danny?”

“So are you bi? Gay?”

He shook his head, aware of Lydia watching him curiously. “I’m straight. Most Carriers ARE bisexual but there are also a lot who are gay or straight. Not that it should matter anyway. This isn’t the 1950’s.”

In the desk right beside the teachers’, Erica raised a hand. “So, how can you give birth?”

“I have a part for that too. But I’m not going to go into detail. You can google it if you’re really curious.”

There was a ruckus in the left hand side of the room. Lydia was desperately trying to stop Jackson from raising his hand. Stiles was tempted to ignore him, but knew that it would only lead to him shouting out something offensive. Jackson Whitmore did not like to be ignored. “Yes Jackson?”

“”So…Is your junk deformed, or really small, or..?”

The class exploded into laughter only to grow silent at Mrs Hatman’s death glare. “Jackson, watch it!”

He turned to her with a wink to show he wasn’t upset-From Jackson he’d expected nothing less. As he turned back to Jackson he pasted on an arrogant smirk. “Nope, all normal. In fact, I can guarantee mines bigger than yours. Packin’ heat is one of the few upsides of the condition.”

This time the class were laughing at Jackson, not with him. 

“Careful, Stiles…” Mrs Hartman arched an eyebrow at him but the twinkle in her eye told him she was still very much on his side. In front of Jackson one of the twins, he wasn’t sure which, raised a hand.

“Why didn’t your parents just get you Fixed?”

He felt a flash of anger at the question. “Because I’m a human being, not a Golden Retriever.”

“So you don’t think people like you should be registered and sterilised? Not even after what happened to you?” He pointed at his pregnancy bump.

“I do!” Jackson shouted as Lydia tried desperately to shut him up. 

“Me too.” The twin nodded at Jackson. Stiles ignored them, instead turning to them all.

“No, not even after what happened to me. The sterilisation operation is total-If I got married I’d never have been able to father children with my wife. And the idea of making it compulsory? The idea of sterilising infants? That’s twisted. It’s my body, not the State’s. I should be able to control what happens to it, not them. When my great grandfather, the first Mieczyslaw Stilinski, arrived in this country, it was from a government that had forced him to register his existence; Who routinely sterilised people without their consent. That Government also tattooed a number on his arm…” He looked around at the now quiet classroom. “We used to think that Government were evil, we called them fascists…I just hope that doesn’t change and I don’t end up with a number on my arm too.”

For a moment the silence held…Then twin number two leaned back in his chair beside his brother and snorted. “Whatever. Your parents should have got you fixed, Carrier. Then you wouldn’t have gotten knocked up like a bitch.”

“That’s it!” Mrs Hatman stood, glowering at the twin that had spoken. “Outside, Ethan! Now!”

The boy stood with a roll of his eyes and their teacher marched him from the room. Stiles was still watching them go when he heard a voice behind him.

“I think you’re a fucking liar.”

He turned to find Jackson scowling at him.

“Stop it! Jackson, shut up!”” Lydia was tugging his arm now, her cheeks flushed, desperate to distract him, but he ignored her, eying Stiles like a lion eying its prey. 

Stiles was thrown. “What?”

“Jackson, please! Just shut up!”

“I think you’re a freak and a fucking liar. You’re just a slutty Carrier kid making up bullshit because you were getting it in the ass from some random guy and the condom broke and you ended up pregnant.”

Stiles gaped at him, shaken by the sheer hatred and venom in his tone. “No…No, that’s not…”

But Jackson ignored him and continued; every word harsh as a blow. “I bet you loved every second of it. Everyone knows Carriers are whores.”

Suddenly he was shaking. Why was he shaking? Stiles tried to swallow, his throat sand-paper dry. “No…No I didn’t…”

“JACKSON, STOP IT!” Lydia was screaming at him now. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

Some of the others joined her in trying to make him back off.

“Jackson, man, seriously…You’re crossing a line!”

“Shut up Jackson!”

“Jackson, stop being sick!”

But Jackson was having far too much fun to stop now. “I bet you begged for it.”

“No! He raped me!”

“Boys can’t get raped.”

“YES WE CAN!” At Stiles’ scream the rest of the class froze. “YES WE CAN! AND I WAS! AND IT COULD HAVE BEEN ANY ONE OF YOU THAT NIGHT! HE WOULDN’T HAVE CARED!” He slumped back into his chair and lowered his gaze to his trembling hands. “But it was me. I was the one unlucky enough to be caught by him in the woods alone.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then Lydia spoke, her voice little above a whisper.

“Are you o.k?”

He looked up to find her watching him, her deep green eyes filled with tears. And he didn’t know what to say. Thankfully he was saved from having to answer by the ringing of the school bell.

 

*******************************

 

Scott found Allison outside the front of the school. She sat slumped on one of the benches, staring at the ground.

“Allison! Allison, what the hell? I thought you were sick, that you were going to…” His voice trailed off when she looked up at him and he saw the shock on her ghost-pale face. “What’s wrong?”

“Did-did you know?” Her tone was accusing, her brown eyes shining with panicked tears. “Did you know about him?”

“About who? Allison, what are you..?”

“STILES, SCOTT!” Her yell startled him. He gaped at her as she raised her arm and jabbed a finger back towards the school and their classroom. “Did you know about Stiles? Did-did you know that he was a Carrier?”

There was an edge of disgust in her voice that gave him a terrible sinking feeling. It had never come up, but surely she wasn’t one of those bigots? She’d always been so shy and sweet…He’d never thought she could be capable of such mindless prejudice. But if she was...If she was, then it left him with a difficult choice to make. 

“Yes. He told me a while ago. But he’s still just Stiles.” 

She shook her head, as if that was the last thing he was. “Well why the hell didn’t you tell me?! I’m your girlfriend!”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t my business to tell, y’know? You don’t have a problem with it…do you?” He watched, shocked, as she turned away from him guiltily, refusing to meet his gaze. Somehow he suddenly felt that he had to show which side of the fence he was on. Then the rest would be up to her. “There are some psychos out there, some bigots, who would hurt him even though he’s done nothing wrong-so his parents told him to keep it a secret. He’s my best friend, more like a brother, so I’m always going to fight his corner. Him being a Carrier makes no difference to me. I don’t have a problem with it.”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on the school. When she spoke again it seemed to be more to herself than to him. “He’s a Carrier…But he’s just a kid. He’s your best friend. And he’s kind. He was so kind to me… But he’s pregnant. He’s actually pregnant! Oh my God!” She raised a shaking hand to run it anxiously through her hair. He was surprised to see her fighting back tears. “I don’t know what to do!”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Yeah, Stiles is kind. And yes, he’s pregnant-But you don’t have to do anything. Allison, why are you getting so freaked out over this? I mean, I know it’s weird, but if you’d just let me explain…”

“Weird?” She scrambled to her feet, whipping round to glare at him. “WEIRD?! DID YOU NOT SEE HIM BACK THERE?! HE’S FUCKING PREGNANT SCOTT! STILES IS A CARRIER AND HE’S FUCKING PREGNANT! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HE WAS GAY!”

Her anger startled him, and he suddenly found himself yelling back. “HE’S NOT GAY! HE WAS RAPED!” 

At his words she froze, gaping at him in shock.

“W-what?”

“Stiles isn’t gay. He was raped.”

“W-when?”

Scott dropped his gaze to his sneakers, biting his lip as the familiar wave of guilt washed over him. “The Full Moon party.”

“Oh Jesus!” Her hands flew to her mouth, her knees buckling slightly. “Oh Jesus Christ!”

He nodded, tears of shame stinging his eyes. “Stiles was raped in the woods that night. I was kissing you while my best friend was being raped. I should have gone to look for him but I didn’t. And now he’s pregnant.”

When she next spoke her tone was purposefully calm, her words measured. “Who did it?”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you his name- the trail is on-going.”

“Was it another student, or-?”

“No. He was an adult.”

“I see.” She turned to look up at the sky as if looking for some sort of answer to a question he wasn’t aware of. “And how old is Stiles again?”

“Sixteen. He’s the youngest in our year, so…”

“Of course he is.” Suddenly Allison’s body began to jerk. Her hand flew to her mouth again. “I-I think I’m going to…”

She tossed her bag aside and spun away from him to slump forward, bracing her arm against a nearby tree as she heaved. He rushed over to hold back her long dark hair as she vomited onto the ground, over and over again. 

“Easy. I know…It’s horrible…” He rubbed her back soothingly until she finished and straightened up, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. 

“Yeah.” She muttered. “It’s a nightmare.” She pulled away from him and stooped to collect her bag, swinging it up onto her shoulder. She took a deep breath and bit her lip. “Look Scott, I-I’m really not feeling so good. I think I’m going to go to the school nurse and get them to call my mom to come pick me up.”

His eyes searched her face and he wondered why she looked so guilty. Perhaps, like him, she felt she was to blame for what happened to Stiles that night. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He reached for her arm but she shrugged him off.

“No. No, I’m fine. You need to get back to class or you’ll get in trouble.”

She spun on her heel and hurried away, leaving him to stare after her in confusion.

 

********************************

 

Stiles loved English, loved peeling back the layers of a story or poem to find the hidden meaning beneath, like a secret left behind by the author. And Mrs Hatman was a great teacher. Not only had she the knowledge but, unlike most of his teachers, she’d never lost the passion. He sat back in his seat to listen as she lectured them on Hawthorne, her dark eyes shining with excitement and enthusiasm. 

“O.k, so in the novel we see Hester’s strength as is ostracised by the society around her, but what about the reason for her condemnation? What about Pearl? Well, let’s start out with her name. The meaning of the name is two-fold, and Hawthorne does this on purpose to show Hester’s attitude to her daughter. A pearl in Hawthorne’s time was a rare and precious thing-Likewise, Hester sees her daughter as precious. But Pearls were also extremely expensive. Having Pearl has cost Hester a lot-Her place in society, her dignity, her marriage…”

Beneath his T-shirt, the baby began to move and, to Stiles, the world suddenly went soft and pink. He reached down to run a hand gently over his stomach, trying to sooth her, whispering low under his breath so no one else would hear. 

“Shhh. Are you alright in there, little girl?”

The Doc had told him that she could hear him in the womb when he talked to her and he wondered if she recognised his voice as the voice of her daddy-The thought made him smile. The baby kicked against his hand and he wondered if she was as hungry as he was. He glanced up at the clock above the blackboard- 12:20. Enough time for him to get his lunch from his locker and go meet Scott in the library before the bell rang and the hallway filled up. He’d managed to get through the day so far, but the idea of going into the cafeteria and facing the entire student body all at once filled him with dread. At least Scott had been understanding and agreed to bag his lunch and hide with him. He raised his hand.

“Mrs Hatman?”

“Yes Stiles?” He raised his pass for her to see and she nodded. “Of course. Remember to do the reading for tomorrow, o.k?”

He nodded, packed up his books and left the classroom, making his way down the corridor towards the lockers…Only to stop dead as soon as he reached his own. 

“Shit.”

It had obviously been kicked in, the door dented and warped, the lock hanging open and useless. The metal had been graffitied with words in black sharpie; ‘Cock-slut’, ‘Faggot’, ‘Queer’, ‘Carrier’, ‘Power to The F.A.C’, and over them all, daubed in bright red paint and in capital letters-‘FREAK’. He pried open the door and a dark brown liquid poured out, splashing the floor and his sneakers-Cola. His books, gym gear and lunch were all soaked in it.

“Thought we’d decorate it for you, Carrier!” He turned to find Jackson standing behind him, flanked by a twin on either side. He was smirking with pride at his handiwork. “You like it?”

He was upset…But damned if he was going to show it. He shrugged. “So you’ve actually got henchmen, now? Well done Jackson. You’re one step closer to becoming a Marvel villain.”

He made to walk away, only for the three of them to surround him, corralling him backwards to where the lockers formed a metal wall behind him, trapping him. On the outside Stiles stayed calm, but inside he could feel himself starting to panic. Jackson was definitely stronger than him…but the twins towered over them both. They looked like they’d been hewn out of two identical pieces of granite.

“You always were a little freak Stilinski…I guess we just didn’t know how much of a freak.” Jackson stopped in front of him, pressing his face into his and forcing Stiles to shrink back. “I mean, look at you! You’re an actual, real-life, fucking mutant! How the fuck did you hide that for so long?”

Stiles shrugged. “I guess the real question here is; why the fuck do you care? It’s not like it affects you in any way at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get a new lunch.”

He made to push past Jackson…Only for the twins to grab hold of his wrists and shoulders, slamming him against the lockers so hard the air was knocked from his lungs. They pinned him there as he struggled.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU ASSHOLES! LET ME GO!” 

Jackson clamped a hand tightly over his mouth, muffling his yells, and pressed his face to his again. “Wrong. Monsters like you affect everyone! You mutants are poison, infecting the human race. You, Stilinski, are an actual fucking threat to humanity! Screw sterilisation. If I were in charge, I’d have you all put down like dogs! I just can’t believe you lived in this town so long without ever being found out. I guess daddy being Sheriff has some benefits.” He stepped back, without removing his hand, and looked Stiles up and down as he fought against the twins’ iron grip. Finally his gaze came to rest on Stiles’ bump. He reached out to place a hand on it, clearly fascinated despite himself, and stroked it thoughtfully with the tip of his finger. At his touch Stiles stopped struggling. “And this is your mutant spawn. So, are you Mommy, or Daddy, or both?” He looked up and smirked when he saw the fear on his face. “Wow, you actually care about it, don’t you?” Stiles’ heart was pounding in his ears now. For the first time since this ordeal had started, he was genuinely terrified-Just not for himself. What Jackson said next confirmed his worst fears. “So, could we kick it out of you? Or how about I tell the boys here to take you to the top of the stairwell and throw you all the way down? How about we do that and see what happens, hmm?” Stiles shook his head, struggling violently, trying to plead with him using only his eyes. It seemed to work because Jackson nodded. “O.k, then. So here’s what’s going to happen. We’re gonna have some fun with you. And you’re not going to give us any trouble…or Mommy Mutant’s going to have a mysterious miscarriage. Got it?” Stiles nodded. “Good.” 

Jackson released his mouth and started to rifle through his back-pack. The twins still held him firmly in place, their grip around his arms and wrists hard enough to bruise. He looked desperately past them to the empty hallway beyond-Why wasn’t the bell ringing for lunch? 

Jackson pulled out a wad of cloth, a roll of Sellotape and a Sharpie and stepped towards him again. “Open your mouth, Freak!” He did and Jackson crammed the cloth inside before covering his lips with tape. “There. That outta keep you quiet.” He uncapped the Sharpie and caught hold of Stiles’ jaw. “You know, since that e-mail went out it’s all everyone’s been talking about-Who’s the Carrier? Is he a Sophomore? A Junior?” He leaned forward and Stiles felt the tickle of the pen on his skin as Jackson began to write carefully across his forehead. “So we figured it was our duty-hell, a matter of public safety-to make sure that every single student in this school knows that it’s you, Stiles.” He finished whatever he’d been writing on his forehead and began to scrawl across each cheek. “That you’re the freak we all need to watch out for.” He pocketed the Sharpie and pushed Stiles plaid shirt aside, taking the hem of his T-shirt in both hands and ripping it open to expose his bump. “And I think we should also show them what a little slut you are.” He stepped back and took a moment to appreciate his handiwork as the twins sniggered. Then the bell rang. He grinned. “Showtime, boys!”

He spun on his heel and marched off, the twins dragging Stiles after him. He struggled and fought, trying to plant his heels, his sneakers sliding on the linoleum. All around them classes were getting out, students spilling out into the hallway and stopping to watch curiously as he was dragged past. But Jackson didn’t care; he just kept walking, pushing his way through the crowd. 

Stiles was just starting to wonder where they were taking him when the crowds parted to reveal the Cafeteria doors. His heart sank. But no, it was even worse than that. Instead of taking him through the main entrance, Jackson and the twins brought him to a smaller door at the side…The door that led directly onto the small stage that the school used for assemblies. Stiles tried to dig his heels in again but it was no use. They dragged him through it and shoved him, tripping and stumbling, up the steps beyond and onto the shadowy stage. The stage curtains were closed but from beyond came talking voices, laughter and the clattering of plates and cutlery as most of the schools’ students went about getting their lunch. Jackson went over to side of the stage and took hold of the curtain pulley.

“Ready Stiles? It’s time for everyone to see the real you!” 

He yanked it down. 

The Cafeteria was packed with students queueing, sitting at tables eating, or milling about, most of them so caught up in what they were doing that they didn’t even notice the curtains being drawn back. Jackson put his fingers to his lips, and let out a loud, sharp whistle. At the shrill noise they all stopped and turned, and Stiles suddenly found himself the subject of hundreds of confused stares. Jackson strode to the front of the stage.

“Well I guess you all got the email, right? The email that told us there was a Carrier in our midst? And I bet you all wondered who it could possibly be! WELL HERE IT IS!” He strode over to where the twins had Stiles displayed, grabbed a fistful of Stiles’ hair and yanked his head right back so they could all see his face as he struggled. “THE CARRIER IS STILES STILINSKI! AND NOT ONLY IS HE A MUTANT AND A FREAK, BUT HE’S ALSO A FAGGOT! HE LOVES COCK SO MUCH HE MANAGED TO GET PREGNANT!” 

For a few seconds there was nothing but shocked silence…Then the entire canteen erupted into laughter, whoops and even a few cries of “Carrier Freak!”, “Disgusting!”, and “Faggot!”

But not everyone found it so funny.

“JACKSON, WHAT THE FUCK?”

“JEEZ MAN, LET HIM GO! HE’S PREGNANT!”

“JACKSON, STOP!”

“SOMEBODY GET SOMEONE! NOW!”

Suddenly people were running, pushing their way through the crowd toward the stage. There was a blur of red hair and Lydia appeared in front of Jackson, slapping at him.  
“Let him go, Jackson! Stop it!”

Jackson released Stiles and caught her by the arms, shoving her away. Stiles struggled in the twins grip as she fell hard onto the floorboards. 

“So you’ve got a problem with faggots?” Jackson turned to find Danny behind him. They were on the Lacrosse team together-Stiles had always thought they were friends- but the way Danny was looking at Jackson now he’d be lucky if he made it out of there alive. “Because if you’ve got a problem with faggots then you’ve got a problem with me. And trust me Jackson, you don’t want that. So let him go before I punch you in the face.”

Stiles was amazed. He’d honestly had no idea Danny was gay. Jackson’s lips twisted into a sneer, he opened his mouth to speak…And Danny punched him-hard. Jackson reeled backwards before righting himself and going after Danny, fists swinging.

Suddenly two other boys appeared through the crowd, running towards Stiles and jumping up onto the stage in front of the twins. The first, the blonde, was Isaac Lahey. Of course Stiles knew him. Isaac had a reputation for being more than a bit screwed up-and for good reason. He’d always been viewed as a bit strange by everyone; always coming out with weird things and starting fights for no reason, always skipping school. Then his father had responded to a domestic disturbance call late one night at the house where Isaac and his dad lived. The sheriff had found Isaac’s father passed out in the kitchen, off his face on drink and drugs, and then followed the sound of screaming down to the basement…Where he’d found a badly beaten Isaac locked in an old freezer-His usual punishment for annoying his dad in any way. His father had been arrested and Isaac had been put in care. The other boy Stiles only knew vaguely as being called Boyd. He was black, as tall as the twins, and just as muscular. They both squared up to them.  
“Let him go.” Boyd’s voice was a deep rumble.

“Yeah. Now. Or we’re gonna hurt you. A lot.” Isaac’s grin was borderline psychotic. 

The twins glanced at each other and shoved him at them, before running over to help Jackson with Danny. Suddenly Lydia appeared at their side, her cheek bruised.

“You o.k?” Stiles could only nod. “Good. I’m gonna go get someone.” She ran from the stage, high heels clacking on the wooden floor. 

Around them all hell seemed to have broken loose. Some of the other boys had jumped in to defend Danny, and what looked like most of the lacrosse team were beating the crap out of each other on stage.

“It’s too dangerous from him to be here.” Isaac turned to Boyd. “Let’s go.” Together they grabbed Stiles and helped him back down the steps and out the door. 

 

 

In the Boy’s Bathroom Stiles tugged the tape from his lips and spat the cloth out onto the floor before turning to look in the mirror. Jackson had scrawled the word ‘CARRIER’ across his forehead in capital letters, and then added the word ‘FREAK’ on both cheeks. 

“Urgh, that asshole!” He filled the sink with water and began washing the words away. 

“Seriously, are you ok?” Isaac’s voice. He looked into the mirror to see Isaac and Boyd standing behind him. Both looked worried. “Is your baby o.k?”

He finished washing his face and nodded. “I think so.” He turned to face them both, leaning against the sink. He still felt a bit shaken. “Thank you for stepping in like that.”

Boyd shrugged. “It was nothin’.”

“The twins are huge. They could have beaten the shit out of you.”

“They could have tried.”

They shared a smile at that.

“Seriously though…Why did you help me? I didn’t think you even really knew me.”

Isaac and Boyd shared a look. Something seemed to pass between them and Boyd crossed to lock the bathroom door. Isaac moved to perch on one of the sinks beside Stiles. His gaze moved down to his bump.

“Because…if either of us were carriers…Then we could have BEEN you.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

Boyd moved to join them at the sink. “Your baby…It’s Peter Hales, isn’t it?”

He stared at them both, startled. “Yeah…H-how do you...?”

Isaac’s blue eyes softened, and he suddenly looked so sad. “Because he did to us too.”

“W-what?” At first Stiles was confused. Then he remembered what his father had told him-Two other boys, raped by Peter Hale just like he was…And now he was looking right at them. “Oh my God.”

Boyd folded his huge arms across his body. “I was thirteen, walking home from softball practice. You wouldn’t have recognised me back then-I was a real scrawny little thing. It was dark. I had my headphones in so I didn’t hear the car. He grabbed me from behind and put me in the trunk, drove into the woods. He had a gun, told me that if I didn’t do exactly as he said he’d kill me and bury me out there. I was so scared. He had a video camera…Taped the whole thing. Afterwards he told me that if I told anyone he’d kill my family. So I didn’t. But I went and I got jacked.” He flexed his muscles. “So no one would able to grab me and hurt me like that again.”

“Shit.”

Isaac started drumming his fingers nervously on the ceramic. “I was twelve.”

“Twelve? Jesus!”

Isaac nodded. “You-you remember what my dad was like?” Stiles nodded. “Well, Peter was one of his dealers. One night he came over looking payment but my dad didn’t have the money…So Peter asked for me instead. Of course my dad didn’t give a shit. He just grabbed me out of bed, dragged me downstairs and gave me to him. He took me back to his place, tied me up…He filmed what he did to me too. When –when he brought me home the next day my dad told me that if I even thought of telling anyone what had happened I’d get the belt or the freezer. So I didn’t. Until your dad showed up and rescued me. When they raided Peter’s place they found his video collection-That’s how they found out about Boyd.”

Stiles swallowed. “It was a four and half months ago, during the Full Moon party. I met him in the woods and he jumped me. He took a picture after.”

“And he got you pregnant.” Stiles nodded and Isaac looked from him to his bump and back again. “So…do you hate it? The baby, I mean.”

“No!” Stiles began to button up his shirt over his bump. “No, it’s my baby, not Peter Hale’s! It has nothing to do with that sick son of a bitch!”

“Okay, okay!” Boyd held his hands out in supplication. “We get it. Look, we just wanted you to know that we got your back. We’ll look out for you and the baby, make sure you don’t get any hassle. Like Isaac said, if we’d been Carriers we could have been in the exact same situation you’re in right now courtesy of that bastard.”

Behind him, Isaac nodded. Stiles was touched. “Thanks guys.”

Suddenly the bathroom door flew open, ricocheting off the wall, and Scott burst in, running to Stiles and pulling him into a hug.

“Stiles! Thank God you’re alright!”

Stiles hugged him back, before patting him on the shoulder. “Uh Scott, you’re sort of crushing the baby.”

“Oh, sorry!” Scott pulled away and looked down at his stomach. “Sorry Bump!” He then turned his attention back to his best friend. “I heard what Jackson did to you! I’ll kick his ass!”

Stiles smiled. “I’m o.k. I had Lydia, and Danny...And these guys.” He pointed to Isaac and Boyd and Scott turned round to face them. “You know Isaac, right? And this is Boyd. They got the twins off me. We-we kind of have a shared history.”

“Hey. Thanks.” Scott shook both their hands before turning back to him. “So I guess with all of us together, you and that baby have quite the pack to defend you.”

“Yeah.” Stiles looked round at the three of them. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

 

**********************

 

Sheriff Stilinski sighed with relief when he saw Stiles and Scott waiting for him outside the school. He pulled up and leaned over to open the door for Stiles as Scott scrambled into the back seat.

“Hi Dad.”

“Hi Noah.”

“Hey, boys.”

“Thanks for picking us up Dad. But, you know, I can still drive.” Stiles gave him a reproachful look.

He shook his head. “In your condition? No way. I’m not taking the risk.”

As he pulled out of the school parking lot the radio clicked on.

“Security teams in New York are on high alert today after ten members of the 32nd Chapter of the organisation known as ‘Faithful against Carriers’ or ‘F.A.C’ were found to be in possession of what have been described as ‘several viable devices’. A spokesperson for the organisation has stated that…”

Noah clicked it off and glanced at the boys, noting how uncharacteristically quiet they both were, each staring out of the window, lost in their own thoughts. He knew something wasn’t right.

 

He waited until he’d dropped Scott home before asking. “So…How was it?”

“It was fine.”

“Well, that’s just unrealistic.” He shot a look at Stiles, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “What happened? And I want the truth this time.”

His son shrugged. “Laughing, some comments, a LOT of staring…”

“What kind of comments?”

“Just the usual- That I’m a freak; that I should have been sterilised or killed at birth; that the F.A.C are right; a lot of homophobia-Nothing I’m not used to.”

The fact that he should be used to it all cut Noah like a knife. But still, there was something more…He shot a quick glance down to where Stiles was rubbing one of his wrists, saw the purple bruises on his white skin. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.” Stiles hurriedly pushed down the sleeve of his shirt. “Some guy grabbed my wrist in the hallway, that’s all. Scott intervened before he could do anything but I think he just wanted to yell at me for existing.”

Noah was certain there was more to the story, but obviously Stiles didn’t want him to worry-he was looking out for him as usual. He hated that. Even that morning he’d come downstairs to find him, heavily pregnant, cooking breakfast for them both. Somewhere along the line their roles had become distorted, skewed, until his son had gotten it into his head that he had to be the adult. It broke his heart and made him feel so guilty, because he knew it was all his fault. But perhaps now, with the baby coming, he could make amends. Perhaps now Stiles would finally let him take care of him like a father should take care of his child.

As he drove he watched his son out of the corner of his eye. There was so much of his mother in him-In his cheekbones, his button nose and golden eyes; in his stubbornness and intelligence. It made him love him even more, if that was possible. “I bought us steak for tonight. Figured we could have it with jacket potatoes. That baby will need plenty of Iron and protein.”

Stiles lowered his gaze to his stomach, stroking it protectively with his hand. There was a tenderness in his expression, a combination of awe and adoration that Noah well remembered. He reached over to pat his bump.

“So how’s my grandbaby doin’ in there?”

When Stiles looked up at him he was beaming with pride, the first genuine smile he’d seen from him in so long. The sight of it brought tears to his father’s eyes. “She’s doin’ well. She was moving and kicking a lot in English class. I think she likes the novel we’re doing.”

“Maybe she’ll be an author or a poet.”

“Maybe. It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Think about it.” He looked down at his bump again. “There’s a whole new person in here, full of potential-A whole new person with their own likes and dislikes and thoughts and dreams. It kind of blows your mind.”

“Yeah.” Noah turned his attention back to the road. “It’s magical. Just remember that the first time she does a shit so far up her back that you end up cleaning it off her hat.” 

 

*************************

 

Later on that evening, Stiles sat at his desk, on his lap-top. He couldn’t tell his dad what had happened at school, but the Forum at least gave him a safe place to vent.

Jake539: So…School maybe wasn’t such a good idea, then?

StarWarsStiles: Maybe not. But I’m going back in tomorrow. I’m not going to them win.

The buzz of the doorbell echoed up from below but he ignored it, unsure if he was allowed to answer it or not.

Jake539: So, how are you feeling?

StarWarsStiles: REALLY uncomfortable. I can’t sleep. You?

Jake539: Lie on your side, with a pillow between your knees. Trust me, it helps. Got my big scan next week.

StarWarsStiles: You finding out the sex?

Jake539: Yep. BF’s coming too-probably to make sure there’s really a baby in there. He’s still a bit in shock.

StarWarsStiles: I know the feeling.

“STILES!” His father yelled up from the bottom of the stairs. “THERE’S A GIRL HERE TO SEE YOU!”

Probably Allison again. When she’d ran out of the classroom that morning he’d thought it had been because of him, but Scott had told him she’d thrown up outside so she must have genuinely been ill. Maybe she’d come to reassure him, out of curiosity…Or because she wanted him to play relationship counsellor for her and Scott again-either way, Stiles wasn’t really in the mood. 

StarWarsStiles: Sorry man, got 2 go.

Jake539: That’s cool, talk 2 U later.

He closed his laptop and made his way downstairs, to find his father waiting for him in the hallway, a goofy grin on his face. 

“You can invite her in if you want, even take her up to your room.”

Stiles gave him a wry smile. “But let me guess, no hanky-panky? Don’t want anyone getting pregnant.”

His father rolled his eyes at him, before disappearing off into the kitchen. Stiles tugged open the door. “Sorry Allison, my dad’s such a…” He trailed off.

Lydia stood nervously on the porch, hugging a book to her chest. “Hi. I-I just wanted to call by and see if you were o.k. After today, I mean. Can I come in?”

For a few seconds all Stiles could do was stare. He’d been in love with Lydia Martin for years but never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine that she’d be standing on his front porch, having come specifically to visit HIM. He tried desperately to remember if he’d made his bed.

“Yeah-yeah, sure.” He stepped back to let her past. “Up here.” 

He led her upstairs and into his room, where she perched on the corner of his bed. He sat down beside her, and for a few moments there was an awkward silence. Finally Lydia took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry about what Jackson did to you. He’s such a prick. I dumped him.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She nodded. “You know, I don’t think I ever liked him…Not really. He was mean, always yelling at me and putting me down. I always thought that was something I’d just have to cope with since I was lucky enough for the captain of the Lacrosse team to want to date me…Then someone told me I deserved better.” When he looked up she was smiling at him. He felt his heart stutter in his chest at the sight. He smiled back and she lowered her gaze to the book in her lap, holding it shyly out to him. “I brought this for you. I thought you could use it.”

He took it from her hands and read the title: ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting.’

“Um, thanks.” He set it down beside him on the quilt and sighed. “Look, I know how freaky this whole thing seems…”

“No!” She rushed to reassure him. “No, I don’t think it’s freaky at all. In fact that’s what really annoys me about everyone’s attitude to this whole Carrier thing. It’s a gene mutation, right?” He nodded, curious as to where she was going with this. “Well gene mutation isn’t freakish-It’s natural, normal. Genes mutate-that’s just what they do. And they usually mutate for a reason-To give us the optimum chance for survival.” She sat back and arched an eyebrow at him playfully. You’re not the only mutant in this room, you know.”

“What?” He frowned, curious. 

“I’m a mutant too.” She held out a lock of her strawberry blonde hair for him to see. “My red hair is a genetic mutation originally designed to maximise the absorption of Vitamin D in those living in the far north of Scotland-That’s where it comes from. There’s a reason Carriers are being born-To optimise humankind’s chance of survival. You’re not freaks…You’re miracles.”

“You think I’m a miracle?”

She flushed red, lowering her gaze to her lap again. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but I’m still sure you know more about genetics than I ever will. Smart, see? So why do you act like you’re not?”

She shrugged, affecting a bossy, high-pitched tone. “Nobody likes a know-it-all Lydia. Boy’s don’t like smart girls.” She stopped and glanced at him, embarrassed. “I have an I.Q of 148. Any other parent would be proud, but not my mother. But it’s not just her…It’s me. I don’t want to stand out. I’m scared that if I do, if they all find out, then no one will like me anymore.”

“Or they won’t care. Hell, some of us might even be impressed.”

She shook her head. “Maybe, but I’m too scared to take the risk. I may be smart…But you’re the brave one-So much braver than I could ever be. What you did today-standing up in front of them like that-That was amazing.”

He lowered his gaze to his bump. “Well it’s not like I had a choice. It’s not like I can hide this.”

“I know. You never had a choice over any of it.” She reached over to take his hand in hers and he stared in disbelief as she threaded her fingers through his. “Stiles, I’m so sorry…” Her voice cracked and he looked up to see tears trickling down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry I left you alone in the woods.”

“Oh no, Lydia! No, it wasn’t your fault!” Without thinking he reached to wipe her tears away with his fingers. “You didn’t know he was there! Neither of us did!”

“Still, if I hadn’t been so dramatic, running off into the woods like that, you wouldn’t have had to come after me and he never would have…”

“Lydia, stop it. I’m o.k. Really. Here,” He stood, pulling her to her feet. “I want to show you something me and my dad have been working on.” 

 

He led her out onto the landing and into the former guest-room, where she stood staring around her in surprise at the changing table, the soft toys lined up on the shelf just waiting for a little person to play with them. She let go of his hand and crossed over to peer into the white cot, leaning in to run the tips of her fingers over the little blanket and pillow embroidered with ducks. She lifted the rag doll tucked beneath, examining it carefully, before turning to look at him, yet more tears shining in her eyes.

“It’s a nursery for your baby.” He nodded. “So you’re keeping it. Wow.” She whispered the word in awe before turning to gaze at the pale pink walls. “You’re having a girl?”

“Yes.” He moved to stand beside her, and they both looked down at his bump. “Look, I don’t believe in fate. Life’s unfair and sometimes really horrible things happen...But I think it’s up to us to work out how to survive them, and see if we can salvage anything good from the wreckage. What happened to me that night was one of the worst things to ever happen to me…But what it left me with could be one of the best. Do you understand?” 

She nodded…Then she moved to hug him tightly. For a moment he just stood there, confused and amazed, then he hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her slender body and burying his face in her hair-Just like he’d always imagined. She smelt of fresh rain and strawberry shampoo. Her tears soaked into his shirt, making it damp. Then she pulled away, sniffling.

“Sorry, I’m sure my mascara is everywhere.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care. I think you look beautiful when you cry.”

She smiled through her tears. “No I don’t, but thanks for saying it.” She looked down at his bump again. “So do you have any scans or..?”

“You really want to see them?”

“Yeah. And I get to be Auntie Lydia, right? I’ve always wanted to have a little niece to spoil. I could paint her nails, do her hair, take her shopping…”

“Teach her quantum physics…”

“Exactly.” 

He stared at her in amazement. Over the years he’d put on her on a pedestal; build her up in his mind to be this perfect being-sweet, and kind and wonderful. A part of him had always been secretly terrified that wasn’t the case…But now, looking at her standing there, he decided that it was.

“So can I see the scans?”

“Yeah…Yeah, you can see the scans.” He took her hand and led her from the nursery back to his room.

 

************************

 

Allison was in freefall. 

Unable to go home-where they’d all seen the email and were expecting her to give them a name-she’d instead spent the last six hours sitting in this run-down diner, going over and over it all in her head.

It was Stiles. The Carrier was Stiles. The monster they’d been hunting, the monster she’d spent her entire life loathing, had been hiding in plain sight this whole time, crouching behind Scott like a toad. And Scott, who was supposed to love her, hadn’t even bothered to warn her; had lied by omission. He’d even made it perfectly clear that he was on that Carrier, that freak’s, side! 

Stiles. She’d sat beside him at lunch, had chatted and joked with him, had gone to him for help…She’d even kissed him on the cheek! She shuddered a little at the memory. And he’d lied to her too. ‘Family thing’! He’d said he’d been off school because of a ‘family thing’! And then he’d waddled into their classroom a few weeks later with his massive pregnancy stomach showing like he had some sort of right to be there! It was disgraceful, twisted, sick, against God…

But…but…BUT…

Stiles wasn’t at all like the disgusting, promiscuous, effeminate creature Carriers were supposed to be. He was just…Stiles. Just a skinny teenage boy with huge brown eyes, who had an impressive collection of sweatpants and plaid shirts, and loved baseball, and blushed to his ears every time the girl he had a crush on entered the room. Just Stiles who had passed love notes between her and Scott; who had acted as their alibi when they’d snuck out at night to meet each other; who’d been so kind and reassuring when she’d come to him crying because she’d thought Scott didn’t want her anymore…

…Just Stiles, who was barely sixteen; who didn’t have a mother; who’d been raped and was now having his rapist’s baby. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how scared he was.  
It was easy to hate the made-up monster…So much harder to hate the boy.

Her thoughts turned to the basement and the prison she and her family had spent hours enthusiastically constructing…Little did she know it would be for him. She thought about Jonas and Kate, her stomach churning as she imagined the things they’d want to do to him.

And he was pregnant-With a baby that would be born a Carrier just like him. Surely they wouldn’t hurt an innocent baby? Somehow she didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

A waitress appeared at her elbow, leaning over to fill up her coffee cup. “I’m real sorry hon, but we’re closing up soon.” She saw the look on her face, the tears in her eyes. “Oh don’t cry. Whoever he is, he’ll get what’s comin’ to him. Just you wait.”

What was coming to him…A week ago she’d have said that a Carrier deserved everything that was coming to them simply for daring to exist…Now she was beginning to realise just how wrong she’d been.

He phone buzzed for what seemed like the hundredth time. She lifted it from her bag and unlocked it. There were fifteen missed calls and at least twice as many texts. The last one was from Kate.

ALLISON, ANSWER YOUR PHONE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? WE’VE CHECKED THE SCHOOL. DID THAT FREAK HURT YOU? 

Somehow she knew that was the last thing Stiles would ever do. She opened her contacts and hit a number. The dial tone droned in her ear.

“Allison? Allison where the hell are you?!”

“Dad, I need you to come pick me up. I’m at May’s Diner on Osborne Avenue. Don’t bring anyone else with you. I really need to talk to you alone.” 

She hung up and slumped back into her seat, trying to work out what the hell she was going to say to him.

 

Ten minutes away from their house, her father turned into a layby and cut the ignition. For a few minutes they simply sat in silence, watching the rain spatter against the windscreen. Finally she spoke.

“Do you ever wonder if maybe we’re on the wrong side?”

“Walking the path of Righteousness is never easy.”

“But do you believe we can walk it with kindness and compassion?”

When he turned to her, his expression was full of sympathy. “You have a name, don’t you?” She nodded, biting her lip. “And how old is he?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Younger than me-only sixteen. But Dad, he’s-he’s not like other Carriers. He’s nice.”

His blue eyes searched her face. “He’s your friend.”

She nodded. “But I didn’t know, Dad! I didn’t know!”

“Shhh, it’s o.k. They’re very good at hiding in plain sight.”

“He’s not a monster, Dad.”

“Not a monster…But still an Abomination.”

“It’s not his fault, though.”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “That’s the tragedy of it-The poor creatures don’t choose to be born the way they are. That’s why I don’t believe in killing them. Register them? Sterilize them? Absolutely. It’s a kindness really. But it’s right there in the Good Book-‘Thou Shalt Not kill.’ And I’ll happily admit that I don’t have the stomach to torture a child. Your mother, aunt and grandfather on the other hand…” He scowled toward the house.

“It gets worse.” 

He turned to look at her, brow furrowed in concern. “How much worse?”

“He’s pregnant.”

“ Jesus Christ!” 

“It’s not like that. He doesn’t even like boys…..He-he was attacked. By an adult.”

“Poor kid.” Her father shook his head in disgust. “Do you know how far along he is?”

“No. But he’s big-REALLY big. Looks about ready to pop.”

He raised a clenched fist to his lips for a moment, thinking. The he turned to her with a sigh. “Then it’s too much of a risk. Let me handle this. I’ll talk to Gerard and your mother-explain the situation and persuade them to see sense.”

“Oh, thank God!” She sagged with relief before throwing herself into his arms. “Thank you Dad!”

He hugged her back…Then the car door on her side was wrenched open and Kate was staring at them, eyes wide and furious. “Allison, where the fuck have you been?!”  
Without waiting for an answer she reached in and caught hold of her arm, dragging her out of her seat.

“Kate, let go! You’re hurting me!”

Her father leapt from the car and ran after them as she trailed her across the lawn toward the house.

“Kate, wait!”

But Kate strode on, Allison jogging to keep up. “Sorry Chris, but we don’t have time for this shit! Victoria needs a name!”

“But it’s not as simple as that! KATE!”

 

The whole Family had piled into the living-room to wait for Allison. Kate steered her through the crowd and pushed her down into one of the armchairs. They all crowded around her, asking a million questions at once.

“So did you see it today?”

“What is it like, Allison?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“Who is it? Who’s the Carrier?”

“I-I…” She shrank away from them, searching through the crowd for her father, only to see him corralled in a corner by Kate and Jonas. “I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” Suddenly her grandfather was in front of her, his expression calm but his small black eyes blazing. “You can’t tell us?”

“No, Grandpa!” She said hurriedly, suddenly frightened. “I mean…It’s complicated…”

“Gerard!” Her father was struggling to push past Kate and Jonas. “Gerard, leave her alone! She’s right! There’s more to this that you need to know! Gerard, let me talk to you!”

But her grandfather dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. “I’m not interested in your bleeding heart nonsense, Chris!” He turned back to Allison, crouching down to press his wizened face into hers. When he next spoke, his voice was a dangerous hiss. “You know that there is a monstrous mutant hiding amongst the innocent people in this town-A mutant that we plan not only to remove, but to use to ensure the whole species is wiped out. This work, OUR work, is the work of God…And yet you mean to stand in our way by protecting its’ identity? What about your duty to your faith, Allison? Your duty to God? “

She felt her cheeks start to burn with shame and blinked back guilty tears. “It’s-it’s not like that Grandpa. If you’d just listen-“

“Oh for fuck’s sake, we don’t have time for this!” 

The slap came from somewhere to her right, so hard that it made her ear ring. Too shocked to cry, she turned and looked up. Through a haze of tears, she saw her mother standing above her, her expression murderous. She’d never hit her before. 

“Mom!”

From the corner, her father was shouting. “VICTORIA! VICTORIA, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

Her mother moved to stand in front of her and slapped her again, the diamond on her wedding ring cutting a neat slice across her cheek. Then she caught hold of her shoulders and shook her violently, her face twisted into a snarl so vicious and hideous that Allison barely recognised her. 

“MOM! MOM, STOP! MOM, YOU’RE HURTING ME!”

“JESUS VICTORIA, STOP! SHE’S OUR DAUGHTER!”

But her mother didn’t seem to care. She screamed into her face. “WHAT’S THE NAME ALLISON? WE NEED A NAME!”

And suddenly the entire family seemed to be crowding around her, looming over her, every face twisted with rage, every voice screaming at her.

“WHAT’S THE NAME, ALLISON?”

“WHO’S THE CARRIER?”

“JUST GIVE US A NAME!”

“WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING IT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“JUST TELL US! TELL US ALLISON!”

“WHO’S THE CARRIER?”

“WHO IS IT, ALLISON?!”

“WHO IS IT?! TELL US THE NAME!”

Her grandfather was glaring at her in disgust; her mother still shaking her like a rag-doll, her dagger-like nails digging into her upper arms, and Allison just couldn’t take it anymore.

“STILES! IT’S STILES STILINSKI! THE SHERIFF’S SON!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time...Stiles starts to prepare for the birth of his baby...And Allison's family decide to strike...
> 
> This chapter will probably be up in three weeks instead of the usual two because I have some family stuff coming up in the next few weeks. It's funny, I start writing a fic that features a pregnancy and then both my sister and sister-in-law announce they're pregnant! Anyway, please leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think of this chapter-They feed my muse! Love you all! Jen xx


	10. Chapter Ten-Judas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The F.A.C make their move...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God guys, I am soooo sorry! This is so late! I've had family stuff going on, work stuff, then I was ill...Loads of things have just gotten in the way! Thank you so much for being so patient!
> 
> Warnings: This chapter contains some strong language, violence and a very uncomfortable scene that you may not want to read if sensitive and implications of sexual assault.

Chapter 10-Judas

 

Wincing, Allison held the bag of frozen peas to her cheek and rose from the stairs to press her ear to the closed door. In the kitchen beyond, an argument was raging.

“We can’t do this. It’s too much of a risk!” Her fathers’ voice. “He’s a kid!”

“He’s a Carrier, Chris.” Her mother’s voice was firm.

“He’s sixteen! He’s a pregnant teenage rape victim! That’s how the public will see it! How the press will see it! If we do this, it could do more to turn the public against the F.A.C than the failed bombing!”

“We’re not doing this to be liked Chris!” Kate, her voice sharp with weary anger. “We’re doing this to get those assholes in the government to finally see fucking sense!”

“And for praise from the organisation!”

“Yes! For being the Chapter that finally achieves the F.A.C’s goals! What the hell’s wrong with that? We work our asses off; have devoted our lives to the cause! We deserve it!”  
“What if he went into labour while in our care? Would you know what to do, Kate? Because I sure as fuck wouldn’t!”

“Maybe we should make him miscarry. Better that baby be dead than born a freak like him!”-Jonas. From the sound of it he was practically salivating at the thought of hurting Stiles. Allison felt her stomach lurch with nerves. 

Her father didn’t even bother to answer him. “The boy’s father is law enforcement, Victoria! He’s the fucking county Sheriff! The second it gets out that he’s missing, this town is going to be crawling with FBI!”

“I hope so.” Her mother’s tone was calm now, resolute. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“Your wife is right.” Her grandfathers’ voice, as calm and resolute as her mothers’. “There is nothing here that we cannot turn to our advantage. The boy’s pregnancy could be used as an example of why these creatures SHOULD be sterilised. It also gives them a time limit-Pass the bill before he gives birth in captivity. Likewise, the fact that the boy’s father is in law enforcement will guarantee us more media coverage, which could lead to more attention for our cause and more public pressure on those in Capital Hill.”

“Exactly. Pass the bill or the freak dies. All those bleedin’ heart Liberals will be so torn their heads’ll fuckin’ explode!” Jonas’ laugh was manic.

“I still don’t like it. It’s a huge risk.”

“And I’m willing to take it-For the F.A.C, for the cause…and for us.” Her mothers’ voice was softer now, almost pleading. Allison could just imagine her looking up into her fathers’ eyes as she reached across the kitchen table to take his hand in hers, manipulating him as only she could. “I’m willing to take it for the sake of our daughter who will never know what it’s like to have a daughter of her own. Allison’s already lost so much to these creatures. I don’t want her growing up in a world where they’re given free rein to destroy families and ruin people’s lives…Do you? You’re her father Chris. Make the hard choice-For her.” 

There was a moment of heavy silence just long enough to make Allison’s heart flutter with panic. Then her fathers’ voice, firm and unyielding. 

“I’m not going to hurt a child.”

“But it’s not really a child, is it? It’s not even human.”

“There were another few minutes of silence. Then, her grandfathers’ voice…

“All in favour of continuing with the original plan?”

“Yes.” Her mother’s voice.

“Fuck yeah!” Jonas, obviously excited. 

“Absolutely.” Kate. 

There was a long, expectant pause, and then…

“Fine.” It was her father’s voice. The word sent a lightning bolt of betrayal through her. He said he’d handle it, said he’d make them see sense…Why the hell was he now agreeing with them? Unless…Unless they were right. Confusion made her thoughts swim. Stiles WAS a Carrier, not a real person…or so they said. So was what they’d planned for him justified? And if he got hurt; if he or his baby died-Would that make them murderers? Or heroes? Would it matter at all if the bill was passed and they got their way? She’d always been so sure…Now she had no idea who the monsters were anymore. 

“Good.” Her mothers’ voice drew her attention back to the meeting in the kitchen. “You go talk to the others…I need to talk to Allison.”

Chairs scraped across the tiles. Allison scrambled to her feet and bolted upstairs, reaching her bedroom and diving onto the bed just as the stairs below began to creak. 

 

By the time the knock came she’d arranged herself against the pillows, ice pack in one hand and magazine in the other. She ignored it on principle. The door opened slowly to reveal her mother, looking sheepish.

“Sweetheart…”

“Get out!” 

Instead she entered and moved to sit on her bed. “Allison...” She reached out and Allison flinched away. “It’s o.k, I just want to see.” She took her chin in her hand, turning her face so she could inspect the red welt on her cheek. “Oh baby, I’m sorry.”

Allison pushed her hand away. “You hit me. You’ve NEVER hit me.”

“I know. Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her voice cracked and Allison was surprised to see her eyes shining with what seemed like genuine tears. Her mother had never been violent, but she’d also never been one to show much emotion. “It’s these creatures! They make me crazy! They’re like a poison, a plague, infecting everything…”

She sat up at that, shaking her head. “But Mom, Stiles isn’t like that! You don’t understand; he’s nice!”

Her mother’s face crumpled and, to Allison’s amazement, she reached for her, pulling her into her arms. At first she resisted, but this unfamiliar affection felt…good. She couldn’t help but give in and press her face into her mother’s shoulder, something deep inside her craving the comfort of her mother’s arms around her, her hand stroking her hair as she whispered into her ear. 

“Oh baby, my poor baby…That’d what breaks my heart the most. That thing manipulated you, lied to you, made you think it was your friend…When in reality, it’s the reason you’re ruined.”

“R-Ruined?” The word stung like another slap. She tried to pull away to look up at her, but her mother moved her hand to the back of her head, pressing her gently but firmly into her shoulder, cradling her and rocking her softly from side to side. 

“Shhh my baby, shhh…Yes Allison, ruined. That’s what that Abomination and his like did. They ruined you. After all, what is the purpose of a woman except to bear children? And, thanks to the Carriers, you can’t do that. And men, Allison, men want to be fathers. The urge to procreate is built into their DNA. So not only did this Stiles creature rob my little girl of the chance to have babies of her own, but he also robbed her of the chance of ever having a loving marriage.” Wait, that couldn’t be right…could it? Her thoughts flew to Scott. He said he’d loved her, definitely acted like he did…But would he still love her if he knew she was broken inside? She’d never even considered it before. “Think about it Allison…Soon that freak of nature will have a baby to cradle in his arms and love as much as a monster like him is capable of love-A baby he might as well have ripped from your womb. It’s so unfair. My poor, poor little girl.” She stopped rocking her and took her face in her hands, inspecting it, the pads of her thumbs caressing her cheeks. “So beautiful. What a waste.” She stooped to plant a kiss on her forehead, kissing her for the first time that Allison could remember. It felt so nice. But then her thoughts turned again to Stiles.  
“If you take Stiles…You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

“When.” Her mother corrected her, reaching to push a strand of her hair out of her face. “When we take Stiles. And I hope we won’t need to hurt him. But Allison, you shouldn’t care, not when that thing you call Stiles is an affront to God. Now, it’s time for Prayer Meeting.” She stood and made a show of wiping the tears from her cheeks with her fingers before pasting on a thin smile. “I hope that you’ll join us.”

After she’d left, Allison flopped back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling, her mind a storm of confusion, anger, hurt and doubt. Obviously she hated the Carriers for what their existence had done to her…But could she hate Stiles? Could she blame him? Did he even know all that Carriers like him had taken from women and girls like her? He certainly didn’t act like it…Somehow, even if he did know, she couldn’t imagine him gloating about it. There was another knock on the door and she sat up to find her father peering in at her. 

“Can I come in?” She nodded and he came to sit on the bed beside her. “Allison…” 

But she cut him off. “I heard you! You said you were going to stop them, make them see sense! Instead you agreed to go ahead with their plan. Dad, what the hell?!”

He reached to lay his hand over hers where it rested on the bed, giving it a comforting squeeze. “They don’t care that he’s pregnant. They don’t care that he’s a kid. Nothing I could have said would have changed their minds.”

“But…”

His expression grew grave. When he spoke his tone was slow, deliberate. “Allison, listen to me. Here’s what’s going to happen-They’re going to kidnap your friend Stiles…And we’re going to let them.”

“What?!” She gaped at him in horror. “But you said…”

He moved closer, pressing his face to hers. When he spoke again it was in a hushed, frantic whisper “I said listen! We’re going to let them and we’re going to act like we’re completely on board with it all-Because if we don’t they won’t trust us, and if they don’t trust us they won’t let us near him…And if we can’t get near him we can’t protect him from them, understand?” She nodded. “Allison, they need you. They’re going to ask you to spy on him; get his number-plate, his address; learn his routine; listen out for him mentioning any time he’s alone, any opportunity for them to strike. Say you will and do it with a smile on your face or they’ll get suspicious. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, even as her heart pounded in her ears. “Yeah I can do that.”

“Good girl.” He stood and stooped to kiss her hair before turning toward the door.

"Dad?” He turned back, eyebrows raised. She bit her lip. “Mom said they won’t hurt him unless they needed to... Do you believe that?”

He sighed and lowered his gaze to the carpet, shifting uncomfortably. “When people are blinded with hate they can do horrific things. If you’d asked me that a few years ago I’d have said we could believe it, that we could trust them…Now I’m not so sure.” He raised his head and met her gaze with his own, his ice-blue eyes shining with determination.  
“But I promise you Allison, I’ll do everything I can to stop them.”

 

Downstairs in the living-room they all knelt and bowed their heads, as in front of them her mother intoned a prayer. 

“Now, let us pray…Dear Lord, as your warriors we ask for your blessing and protection as we continue our holy mission in your name…”

Allison pressed her palms together and raised her eyes to the large wooden cross held in her mothers’ right hand. As her mothers’ words washed over her, she offered up a silent prayer of her own.

‘Dear Lord, please stop them from taking Stiles. And if you can’t, or you won’t, at least stop them from hurting him and his baby or, Heaven forbid, killing them…” 

Around her, voices were murmuring, parroting her mothers’ words back to her. “Help us, oh Lord, to get justice, and use us as tools to punish the sinful and immoral Abominations known as Carriers-“

‘Dear Lord, please help us to protect him from them. Please make them show some compassion, some humanity. Please God, please…”

Around her the voices rose to a crescendo. “This we ask of you, in Jesus’ name, A-men.”

“A-men.” She whispered it, her lips barely moving, as she stared at that cross waiting for some kind of sign that God had heard her desperate plea.  
But there was nothing.

Perhaps He’d already abandoned them all.

 

*************************

 

The next day, Allison hovered in the canteen doorway, feeling like Judas. At a table in the far corner Scott and Stiles sat with three other boys she didn’t know, trays full of food in front of them. As she watched, Scott laughed at something Stiles said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder in a casual gesture of affection. The strength of their friendship was easy to see, even from this distance, evident in every shared smile, every look, in the ease with which they interacted, mirroring each other gestures. ‘He’s my brother’…That’s what Scott had told her. And she was Scott’s girlfriend. He loved her…They both trusted her…

“Listen to everything he says and report back. Any time he mentions when he’ll be alone, we need to know about it.”-Those had been her instructions that morning.  
She knew she needed to go over there, but as her gaze moved from their smiling faces to the swell beneath Stiles’ red hoodie her feet seemed to fuse to the floor. In truth, she still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about him. She hated their Chapter’s plan with every fibre of her being, felt sick at the thought of either him or his baby being harmed…But that didn’t mean she was suddenly comfortable with what he was. And every time she thought of that baby growing inside him the jealousy she felt was white hot and searing.

“Hey, Allison!” An arm was suddenly threaded through hers and she turned to find Lydia standing beside her, smiling. “You o.k?” She followed her gaze to Stiles. “It’s hard to believe, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t you find it a little…weird? I mean…He’s a Carrier, Lydia! Stiles is a Carrier!”

Lydia shrugged and, to Allison’s surprise, shook her head. “No, not really. It’s just a medical condition.”

A medical condition? Hardly! More like a gross mutation! She fought to hide her disbelief at her friends’ naivety. “I guess…But did you know that they cause infertility in women?”

To her amazement, Lydia burst out laughing. “Oh come on Allison! You can’t seriously believe that? That’s just Right-Wing Fake News. There’s simply no way Carriers can do that. It’s a biological impossibility. Besides,” She flicked a lock of her red hair over her shoulder. “I think Carriers could be good for us girls. In the future, they could have the babies for us.”

Allison gawped at her in confusion. “But isn’t the point of a woman to be a mother? What would we do instead?”

Lydia’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Stay on at college and get PHD’s? Climb to the top of the career ladder and become CEOs? Travel the world? Jeez Allison, where the hell did you pick up that Stepford Wife shit? It’s not Victorian times! We’re not just rent-a-wombs! We’re people!” She rolled her eyes. “You’re hilarious and I love you. Now come on!”

And with that, she dragged Allison over to the table.

 

“Hey guys!” Lydia parked herself between the slender blonde boy and the muscly black one and leaned towards the tanned boy beside Scott, resting her chin on her hand. “So Danny…Is Jackson off the team?”

“Yep! And guess who’s replacing him on first line!”

“Nice!”

“Hi, Baby.” Allison went to Scott, ducking her head to kiss him before turning to sit down and realising that the only free seat was at the end of the bench…Beside Stiles. She hesitated. 

“Allison?” She looked up to find Lydia staring at her. “You, o.k?” The others followed her gaze and suddenly Allison found all eyes on her.

“Umm, yeah.” She squirmed a little under the weight of their stares. “I just…”

Then Stiles spoke, breaking the tension. “I get it…You want to sit beside Scott. Well, I’m not gonna get in the way of true love…Here.” He gave her a wink and shifted down the bench to make room for her.

“Thanks.” She slid between them and Scott slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. 

Stiles shrugged. “No problem.” He reached across her, lightening quick, and snatched up a handful of Scott’s fries.

“DUDE! NOT COOL, BRO!”

“Oh come on, man! I’m growing a whole other person here!” He crammed the fries into his mouth and wriggled his eyebrows at Scott, who reluctantly passed over his plate and went back to discussing the Lacrosse season with Danny. At the other end of the table, Lydia seemed to be having a wonderful time flirting with the other two boys. The muscular one in particular was hanging on to her every word. But the blonde kept sneaking furtive glances Allison’s way.

“I think Isaac has a thing for you.” Stiles whispered in her ear. When she turned to look at him in surprise his amber eyes were sparkling with amusement. 

“Yeah, well, I’m taken.” 

Without meaning to, she found her gaze trailing down to his bump. It looked so bizarre to her, so un-natural. His eyes followed hers and he reached down to rest his hands over it, embarrassed. 

“Look, I know it’s weird…”

 

“No!”  
He arched an eyebrow at her in disbelief and she flushed. “I’m a sixteen year old boy and I’m five months pregnant, Allison. It’s pretty fucking weird.”

She felt herself cringe. “Alright, yeah, I found it a bit weird at first. But I’m o.k with it now.” The ease with which the lie slid out surprised her. “How are you doing?”

He shrugged and swallowed as if he had a lump in his throat. “I’m fine.” 

But his expression told her he was anything but. At her question the cocky, sarcastic façade had faded away. The boy underneath looked completely exhausted, frightened and so lost. It was so much easier to hate Stiles in the abstract. Up close he was too nice to hate…And too vulnerable to hurt. She bit her lip. 

“What about your dad? How did he take it?”

“He was upset at first about…y’know…What happened to me at the party, How-how I got pregnant.”

“The rape.” 

He nodded, avoiding her gaze, and she tried to imagine how her own father would react if something that horrific had happened to her-How she’d even manage to tell him. 

“Because-because I was raped he wanted me to give the baby away. Now he’s o.k with me keeping it. He’s just worried, really. We’ve had threats and stuff, y’know? Crazies calling at all hours saying nasty shit, talking about how they’re going to kill me, even threatening to hurt my baby; letters telling us to move because no one wants a filthy Carrier in Beacon Hills; dog shit smeared across the front door…Last night someone threw a brick through our living-room window, but by the time Dad got out there they were gone.”

“That’s…Horrible.” Yet those were the sort of things members of the F.A.C did all the time. In the past she’d found them funny…Suddenly they weren’t so funny anymore. 

“Yeah.” He started to chew on his knuckle, stroking his bump absent-mindedly with his other hand. “I keep telling him it’s probably just Jackson and his asshole friends but he still wants to pull me out of school. He’s freaked out.” 

Jackson and his friends…Or Jonas, Kate and THEIR friends- probably amusing themselves by tormenting him from afar until the time came when they could do it in person. She found herself reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his arm. “I don’t blame him. I bet you are too.”

For a moment he seemed about to nod. Then he shrugged her hand away. “No. No, like I said-I’m fine. Really.”

She didn’t believe him for a second but nodded anyway. “So, does your Dad come with you for your pre-natal appointments? That must be awkward.”

“Normally he does, but I’ve got one next week and he can’t get anyone to cover him.” At his words, her stomach lurched. She knew what he was about to say next and wanted to lean over and cover his mouth with her hand so she wouldn’t hear it…Because if she did then she’d have to tell them. “So I’ll have to go on my own that day. But it’s o.k, my doctors’ really nice.”

She loathed herself with every fibre of your being for asking, but she still forced the words out through gritted teeth. “Which day is it?”

“Next Friday. Last scan before my due date.” He leaned over to swipe Scott’s pudding while his back was turned.

Next Friday. Little did he know that he had a week left of freedom, and then…

Above them the bell rang signalling the end of lunch. Scott turned to her.

“I’ve got Economics now but I’ll see you later in Chem?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll save you a seat.” She leaned in to kiss him deeply, savouring his taste, the feel of him in her arms. When she pulled away he was smiling. 

“What was that for?”

“Because I love you.”

“I love you too.” But he wouldn’t if he knew. And she was going to have to lie to his face, comfort him when his best friend disappeared, when the ransom demands came. She wasn’t sure if she even had it in her to be so false.

“Uhh, Scott?” 

They both turned to find Stiles sitting looking forlornly down at his swollen stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

“My loss of dignity. I’m big, and fat, and pregnant, and I can’t get up. Little help?” With a chuckle Scott moved to slide his arms under his best friends’ armpits and tug him to his feet. “Thanks man.”

“No problem.”

Lydia finished talking to the others and crossed to link her arm once more with Allison’s. Together they watched Scott and Stiles go.

“Born with a genetic mutation that some people would kill him for; is raped and made pregnant by a stranger; is forced to have his rapist’s baby…” Lydia ticked each horror off on her fingers. “…If that were me I’d be going out of my mind. You can’t deny it; Stiles has a hell of a lot of courage.”

“Yeah, he does.” 

And in a weeks’ time, he was going to need all of it.

 

*******************

 

A week later, Stiles sat in the rocking-chair in the corner of the nursery- the same rocking chair in which his mother had nursed him as a baby. Spread out across the carpet in front of him was his research-books, leaflets, print-outs- everything he could find on pregnancy, birth and parenting; Because if he was going to do this then he was going to do it right. He turned back to the scrawled note on his lap, just the latest to be shoved through their door.

 

BETTER WATCH YOUR FILTHY COCK-SUCKING CARRIER BRAT, SHERIFF,  
BECAUSE WE’RE COMING FOR HIM!  
WE’RE GOING TO GET HIM AND WE’RE GOING TO SLICE HIM UP, CUT THAT BABY OUT OF HIM AND STRANGLE IT.  
WE’LL SEND THEM BOTH BACK TO YOU IN PIECES!

 

As he re-read the words his throat grew dry and his chest tightened with fear. They were probably just idle threats…But what if they weren’t? Inside him, the baby moved. He tossed the note onto the floor and reached down to rub his stomach, rocking in the chair as he whispered to it soothingly. “Shhh, …It’s o.k little Bump, it’s o.k…I won’t let anyone hurt you, I swear. I’ll kill them first.” Now, more than ever, it felt like him and Bump against the world.

“Hey.” 

He looked up to find Scott leaning casually against the door frame, one hand in his pocket. He stepped inside and looked around in wonder, taking in the toys on the shelves and the changing table already stocked with diapers and wipes, before moving to stand with his hand on the crib. When he turned back to him there was an odd look on his face, somewhere between grief, fear and amazement.

“What?”

“Nothing…I guess it’s just kind of hit me. You’re not just pregnant…You’re actually having a child. You won’t be a kid anymore-you’ll HAVE a kid. Stiles, you’re going to be someone’s dad!”

“Yeah I know.” Stiles couldn’t hide his amusement that this was only occurring to his best friend now. 

“And-and you’re o.k with that? I mean…you’re not scared or...?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m scared, Scotty. No more messin’ around; I’m going to have to grow up…But…” He indicated his bump. “I know she’ll be worth it.”

They shared a smile. 

“What about a name?”

“I had thought ‘Claudia’ after Mom but I don’t know; it seems kind of morbid. And I know this sounds awful but…A baby is a new life. Every time I say my baby’s name, I don’t want to think about a death.”

“I guess.” For a moment Scott shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, then a thought struck him and his eyes lit up. “Hey, will I able to see her today? Like, will they let me look at the scan?”

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles was touched by his enthusiasm. “Here, give me a hand, will ya?” His friend helped him up and they made their way from the room and down the stairs. “Thanks for doing this, man.”

Scott smiled. “I couldn’t let you go alone. Besides, your Dad was nervous as hell about you driving yourself.” He held out his hand. “Keys!”

Stiles scowled but fumbled in his pocket and tossed them to him.

 

At the hospital Scott crouched, staring wide-eyed at the grainy image on the monitor. 

“Wow!” He turned to where Stiles was watching him with a smile. “Dude, there’s actually another human being inside you!”

“Yes Scott-That’s what being pregnant means!”

Between them, Dr Stevens chuckled. “Yes, it certainly is the most commonplace of miracles. Although this little one is just that bit more special.” He gave Stiles a wink. “And- from the looks of it-she is also happy, healthy and ready to come out soon. How have things been?”

“The heart-burn’s a killer, and I’m getting more breathless.”

“As the baby grows and takes up space in your abdomen, there’s less room for your lungs to expand. It’s perfectly normal. Have you been practicing your breathing exercises for the birth?”

“Yep. And I looked at all the birthing positions. They look…Complicated.”

The old man nodded. “We’ll see how your labour progresses. I think we may end up with you on your side or on elbows and knees. However, if possible, I would like to try a squatting position, supported by your Birthing Partner. The gravity would help with birth and the position may prevent tearing.”

“Tearing?” Scott looked up at Stiles, confused.

“Trust me Scotty, you don’t wanna know.”

“The physical contact during the later stages of labour would also have a comforting and calming effect.” Dr Stevens fixed Stiles with a kind smile. “Stiles, I know you’ve done a lot of research; that you know what to expect- But you are still very young and labour is a painful, frantic process. There will be moments where you WILL become afraid. I want you have someone there for emotional support. I take it your father will be your Birthing Partner?”

To Scott’s surprise, Stiles looked unsure. “I’d need to talk to him about it.”

The Doctor nodded. “That’s fine. Ok, all done.” He wiped the gel away from Stiles’ skin and lowered his gown. “I expect to see you again in around five weeks’ time. However, if at any point before then you feel your birth canal ‘pop’ or experience any bleeding, you come here immediately, understand?”

“Sure thing, Doc.” 

 

Scott waited for Stiles to dress and they thanked Dr Stevens before leaving the examination room and making their way out of the hospital. It was already dark when they reached the car park, a heavy shower of rain making them tug their hoods over their heads and hurry for the jeep.

Once inside Scott made to turn the key in the ignition, only for Stiles to reach out and stop him.

“Wait. I have to ask you something first.”

“Sure.”

Stiles let go of his hand and they both sat back in their seats. He was silent for a moment, obviously trying to work out how to word something.

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “Will-will you be my birthing partner?”

Scott was panic-stricken. He struggled to think up an excuse for refusing. “Your birthing partner? Oh…uh…I’m honoured, but…”

Stiles sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. “Scott, look at me.” He did, and immediately wished that he hadn’t. There was a pleading in Stiles’ caramel eyes that made him feel so guilty. “I don’t need you to be honoured…I need you to be there.”

“But my mom…”

“Your mom is going to be occupied with making sure that the baby is o.k. As for the Doc-he’s a good guy but this is as much of a novelty to him as it would be to any other doctor. He’ll be excited about the ‘Teenage Carrier Giving Birth’ part-No matter what he says I’m still a medical anomaly to him. I’m not going to lie to you Scott; I’m terrified. And I know I’ll be even more terrified when I’m in labour. So I need someone who’s going to be there for me and only me…And you’ve always been there for me Scott.”

He hated the thought of his best friend being afraid. But still…There would be blood, and slime, and screaming. “I dunno…”

“Please Scotty, I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need to.” He knew that was true. Stiles always liked to give everyone the impression he could cope with anything. He must be truly terrified to even ask.

So he gave in. “O.k, fine. I’ll do it.”

Stiles let out a huff of relief. “Great. Just one thing?”

“Yeah?”

“When it’s all happening please Scott, for the love of God, stay up by my head!”

He laughed, breaking the tension. “Sure, man. No arguments there!" 

He turned the jeep’s engine on and drove out of the hospital car park into the street. 

Neither of them noticed the black four by four pull out from beneath the trees and start to follow them…

 

They were almost home, had just pulled onto the isolated tree-lined bit of highway they used to avoid driving through town. Stiles was playing with the radio, flicking through channels before settling on one. “Ah, here we go! Something decent!”

Scott wrinkled his nose in disgust as punk-rock blasted from the speakers.

“What is it with you and that Emo shit? “ He reached over and began scrapping with him over the radio tuner. The jeep swerved slightly.

“FUCK, SCOTT! KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD! If you crash this jeep I swear to God I’ll…” Stiles turned to look through the windshield and his voice trailed off. “What the hell..?”  
Scott followed his gaze.

A white van was parked across the road ahead, completely blocking it off. The beam of their headlights picked up a line of shadowy figures standing a few metres in front of it, their arms raised, as if waiting for something. An accident, maybe? No…There was something about them that seemed…Off. They seemed indistinct…Too dark. 

As they drew closer Scott realised what it was…They were all wearing black ski masks. At the sight of the jeep they all moved forward. The headlights glinted off the barrels of at least five guns. 

Beside him, Stiles shrunk back into his seat. When he spoke, his voice shook with barely supressed fear. “Scott…Look at their shirts.”

Each of them wore black sweatshirts, large white letters emblazoned across their chests-F.A.C.

Scott made a snap decision. “Screw that shit!” 

He threw the jeep into reverse, swung it round, slammed on the gas…And almost crashed it right into the black four by four parked across the road behind them, hemming them in, trapping them. As he skidded to a stop, the back doors opened and three more masked figures got out, raising their guns. 

“GET OUT OF THE CAR WITH YOUR HANDS UP! NOW!”

“Oh shit, what do we do? Stiles, what do we do?!”

“You’re disposable.” 

“What?!” He turned to where Stiles sat staring at the men with terrified eyes, both arms wrapped tightly around his bump. 

“You’re disposable. They want me, not you.” He turned to him, eerily calm. “I want you to run. I’m going to get out and while they’re distracted by me, I want you to get out and run as fast as you can. Get out of here, find my dad and tell him what’s happened.”

“What?!” He gaped at him in horror. “No way! I’m not leaving you!”

“They could kill you Scott!”

“They could kill YOU!”

“I don’t think they will…”

“How do you know?!”

“Because…” And what Stiles said next made Scott’s blood run cold. “If they just planned on killing me they wouldn’t have covered their faces…or brought a fucking van.”

“But…”

“GET OUT OF THE CAR NOW OR WE SHOOT!”

Stiles undid his seatbelt and fixed him with a look of grim determination. “Scott, GO!”

Then he opened the door and stepped out, closing it calmly behind him and raising his hands in surrender as they surged towards him.

But Scott wasn’t going to leave his best friend, not even if it cost him his life. 

“NO!” He jumped from the jeep and ran, sliding across the bonnet and diving in front of Stiles. He pushed him back against the closed door, shielding him from them. “BACK OFF!”

For a moment they seemed to hesitate, confused, looking around them as if for some sort of guidance. Then one broke from the crowd and marched towards him, pushing its face into his. The eyes behind the mask were almost black and burning with irritation and hate. 

“Get out of the way, you little shit!”

“No!”

“Get out of the fucking way, Carrier Lover, or I will shoot you in the fucking head!”

“Oh shit! Scott, just let them take me!” Stiles was pounding on his shoulder with his palms; hissing in his ear. “Scott please, they’ll kill you!”

He was dizzy with terror…But he could feel Stiles’ heart pounding where his chest was pressed against his back, could feel his protruding baby bump, and he wasn’t going to leave him with these psychopaths. He reached back and placed his palms on the jeep door, either side of him, before glaring up at the masked man in defiance.

“You’re not taking him. I won’t let you.”

“Fine.” And with that the cool muzzle of a gun was pressed to his forehead…

*****************************************

 

“It’s not true, is it?”

“What’s not true?”

“That Carriers cause infertility?”

Kate turned to look at her, her eyes narrowed to slits behind her mask. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course it’s true!” She began drumming her fingers on the steering wheel of the four by four. “What’s taking so fucking long? It’s one knocked-up kid! It’s not like it’s rocket science!”

Beside her, Allison sat hunched over in her seat, her stomach tight with nerves and her skin crawling with revulsion at being forced to be a part of this. The ski mask she wore was hot and claustrophobic and she dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from reaching up and ripping it off. 

“Do you think he’s fighting back?” She prayed Stiles wouldn’t be that stupid. They couldn’t kill him…But that didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt him. 

“No idea, I can’t see. Hang on.” Kate opened the car door and climbed out, stepping forward a few paces to get a closer look. “What the hell? Oh, I don’t fucking believe this!” She spun round to snarl at Allison. “I thought you said he was going to be alone?!”

“Yes.” Allison stared back at her, confused. “T-that’s what he…”

“Then why the fuck are there two of them?!”

“Two? What do you mean two?” Then a terrible thought struck her and she jumped from the car and ran over to stand beside her aunt, her hands flying up to muffle her horrified scream as she took in the scene in front of her, silhouetted in the car headlights. “Oh no! Oh, God no! What is he doing here?! He’s not supposed to be here!”

“Wait…you know him?”

“Yes! That’s Scott!”

“Scott?! Scott, your boyfriend? Wait! ALLISON, GET BACK HERE!” 

But Allison was already running…Because Jonas had a gun pressed to Scott’s head and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

“STOP! STOP! PUT THE GUN DOWN!” 

She slammed into him, knocking him off-balance. He stumbled back, before righting himself and raising his gun again as she shoved herself between them.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” He roared at her, furious. “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!”

“NO! NO INNOCENT CIVILIANS!” 

“WHAT?!”

She fought to catch her breath. “No innocent civilians! And no children! That’s what The Code says! And he’s both!”

“He’s a witness!”

“And if you kill him the Left will make him into a Martyr!”

“Right now, I don’t give a shit!”

“She’s right!” Her father’s voice. He ran up behind her, his face covered by a ski mask, and reached to push the muzzle of Jonas’ gun down to the tarmac. He pressed his face to his, barking at him. “Get the Carrier! That’s our mission! We’re not killing anyone tonight!”

“Let him go and he’ll run straight into town for help!”

“We’ll tie him up, gag him and leave him in the jeep. This is a back road. He won’t be found before tomorrow morning.” He turned to where Scott was still shielding Stiles and caught him in a headlock, trying to drag him away. 

“NO! GET OFF ME! YOU’RE NOT TAKING HIM! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” 

“HELP ME WITH HIM!” 

“NO! LET ME GO!” Scott was fighting with everything he had, thrashing around and lashing out with his feet. Allison and some of the others ran to help. 

“GET OFF ME! STOP!” 

They managed to prise him away from the jeep just enough that Jonas could reach behind him and catch hold of Stiles, dragging him out by the back of his hoodie. 

“SCOTT, RUN!” 

He pinned Stiles’ arms to his sides and clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling his shouts, before turning to taunt Scott with his prize.

“I’ve got him! Give it up, Carrier Lover, I’ve already got your friend!” 

Scott lunged towards them, only for Allison’s father and several of the other men to dive on him, tackling him to the ground. As he fell he reached out, arms flailing, grabbing for anything that would keep him upright. Allison didn’t realise he’d caught hold of her mask until he was lying on the tarmac with it in his clenched fist, staring up at her with a look of complete and utter shock and disbelief.

“Allison?!”

For a moment there was a stunned silence…Then her father was on top of him, his knee on his chest, pinning him as he pressed one hand down over his eyes and the other over his mouth.

When he turned to look up at her, Allison was stunned to see in his eyes, not anger, but fear. 

“How does he know you?! How the fuck does he know you?!”

She bit back her panic and searched her brain for an excuse. “I-I don’t know…School?”

“He’s her boyfriend.” They looked up to find Kate standing above them, a hand-gun pointed directly at Scott’s chest. “He knows her name, he knows the house, he knows YOU! We’ll have to kill him now.”

“NO!” Allison dropped to her knees beside her father, grabbing his jacket with both fists as she pleaded with him. “No, don’t kill him! Daddy please, please don’t kill him!”

Above them, Kate was unmoved. “He’s seen her, Chris. You let him go now and he’ll lead the police straight to us.” 

“Dad, please! You said we weren’t killing anyone tonight! You said!”

“We got what we came for, Chris. Let me kill the kid so we can go.”

“No!”

Allison’s father turned and looked back to where Jonas held a struggling Stiles. “You’re right.” Allison gaped in horror as he reached up to take the gun from Kates’ hand and lower it to Scott’s temple…But he didn’t pull the trigger. “We have the Carrier, so we’re not killing this one…As long as he co-operates.” He stood, pulling Scott with him. “But he has seen her, so we’ll have to bring him too. Here,” He shoved him at another man. “Take him.” As the man pulled Scott past Allison, he shot her a look so filled with venom and betrayal that she shrank away. Her father turned to address them all. “ALRIGHT, GET THEM BOTH IN THE VAN AND LET’S GO!”

Allison watched as both Scott and Stiles were bundled into the back of the white van. Not one life in their hands now, but two-three if she counted the baby. Somehow an already horrific situation had just become infinitely worse. 

 

Sitting on the floor of the van, Scott winced as the cold metal cuffs clicked closed around his wrists, securing his hands behind his back. 

“Hold still, you little freak!” 

Beside him, another of the masked men cuffed the hands of a struggling Stiles and pressed a wide strip of black tape down over his mouth. Once finished, he drew his hand back and slapped Stiles so hard across the face that his head snapped to the side. When he turned to look at Scott in shock, a steady trail of crimson blood dripped from one nostril and down over his gag. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you ?! HE’S PREGNANT!”

The man in front of him broke another strip off the roll and pressed it firmly over Scott’s lips, before leaning close to whisper in his ear. “It’s just a filthy Carrier, so we can torture it all we want…As long as we don’t kill it.”

Scott met Stiles’ gaze, his horror perfectly reflected in his best friends eyes. Then hoods were slid down over their heads, plunging them into darkness.

The door slammed, the engine rumbled to life beneath them and the van lurched forward, throwing them together. There was silence…Then Scott became aware of a strange noise beside him-a muffled, gasping whimper that was heart-wrenching to hear. It took him a few moments to realise that Siles had finally reached his limit and was struggling not to cry. Desperate to offer what comfort he could, he twisted, straining until he could brush his fingers against his friends. Stiles snuggled into his side, tilting his head to rest it on his shoulder, and, despite his own fear, Scott knew he’d made the right decision. He couldn’t bear the thought of his best friend going through this all alone.

 

*************

 

They arrived home to a hero’s welcome. The rest of the Family spilled out of the house, surrounding both the van and the car and congratulating them as they emerged with high fives and slaps on the back. Allison felt sick when she saw that the children were among them, clad in their pyjamas-obviously allowed to stay up late for this ‘special’ occasion. 

“Where is it?”

“Where’s the Carrier?”

“We wanna see!”

“Show us the Carrier!”

They all rushed forward, fighting for a view as Jonas opened the back of the van. 

“WE CAUGHT US A CARRIER LOVER!” He pulled a out hooded and hand-cuffed Scott, shoving him at one of the others to hold. “AND THE FILTHY CARRIER FREAK ITSELF!”

As Stiles was dragged from the van they let out a blood-thirsty roar. 

“CARRIER!”

“FREAK!”

“KILL THE CARRIER SCUM!”

As Jonas steered him through the crowd people lashed out, kicking at Stile’s legs, causing him to stumble and laughing when he fell to his knees. Allison had to bite back the urge to scream at them to stop. If she showed any sympathy now she’d never be allowed close enough to shield him from them. 

They all followed as Jonas shoved him up the steps and into the house. Her mother and grandfather were already in the living-room, arguing with her father as he stood in the corner holding Scott. As she entered her mother reached to tug off Scott’s hood, catching his jaw and examining his face. Then she turned to stare at her, her eyes burning with anger. For a moment, she seemed about to make her way over to her, but then Jonas arrived with Stiles.

Her grandfather marched over to meet him. “Is this it?”

“Yes Sir!” Jonas puffed up his chest with pride. 

The old man grabbed a chair from a corner and dragged it into the centre of the room. “Put it on that.”

Jonas shoved Stiles down onto the chair and stepped back to join the crowd that now filled the living room, perching on the couches or leaning against the walls on every side.  
Her grandfather raised his hand for silence. “BROTHERS AND SISTERS! I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE THAT TONIGHT’S MISSION WAS A SUCCESS! I GIVE YOU THE CARRIER!” He tugged the hood away and Stiles blinked furiously before staring at the baying crowd with wide, terrified eyes. “A BREEDING MACHINE! A MUTANT! A MONSTER! A DEMON CREATED AS AN AFFRONT TO GOD! WEAK! LUSTFUL! IT’S BELLY SWOLLEN WITH THE RESULT OF IT’S SIN! AN ABOMINATION!” 

He stepped back as the crowd pushed forward, dragging Stiles to the floor, where they fell on him like a pack of baying hounds. As Allison watched in horror, they pulled off his sneakers and tossed them aside before tearing at his jeans, ignoring his muffled cries. She made to run over, to stop them, only to feel a strong grip close on her arm. When she looked up her father was standing beside her, watching the whole scene with a face of stone. He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Don’t! If you try to defend him now they won’t trust you around him in the future.”

“But they’re hurting him!”

“No.” He shook his head. “They’re not-not really. Gerard wouldn’t allow it. He’s too valuable to us.”

“Then what are they doing?”

“Satisfying their curiosity.”

When they turned back Stiles had been stripped from the waist down. Two of the men knelt beside him. They had one hand on his shoulders, pinning him down, and the other at the back of each knee, bending his legs back and spreading them wide, displaying the most private part of his body for all of them to see as he struggled fruitlessly against them. To her disgust, people were actually rushing forward to peer between his thighs, pointing and laughing at what was there. 

“It IS pregnant! Look at the bump! Urgh, disgusting!”

“Look at the stretch marks!”

“So I take it it’s a Queer?”

“Like it in the ass, do you Freak?”

“Look at his cock!”

“His balls are huge!”

“But where does the baby come out? “

“Where’s its pussy? Does it even have one?”

“I’ll find where its pussy is!” Jonas crouched down between Stiles’ thighs, disappearing from her view, and then he did something that made Stiles arch his back and scream against the tape that gagged him. When he stood back up he was wiping his hand with the end of his shirt. “It’s up its ass! You can feel it!”

“UMMMMM! UMMMMM!”

She turned to where Scott was being held by Kate and one of the other men. He was fighting against them for all he was worth, desperate to help his best friend. He’d never forgive her, she knew that. But for her to be able to protect them she somehow needed to make him trust her again. Then a high, squeaky little voice cut through her thoughts.

“Ally! Ally!” She looked down. Little Gideon stood beside her, barefoot and in his pyjamas. He tugged at the leg of her pants and held up his arms. “Ally, lift me up! Lift me! I wanna see the monster!”

The monster…Of course, that’s what they’d taught him Carriers were-what SHE’D taught him they were. While other six year olds listened wide-eyed to bedtime stories of dragons, for their little ones the Carriers had become the monster in every fairy-tale. She dropped down to crouch in front of him, taking his tiny hands in hers.

“No, baby, no. You’re too little, o.k? Hey, it’s late. How about I bring you up to bed, huh? I can read you a story.”

But Gideon was having none of it. “NO! I WANNA SEE THE MONSTER!” 

He wrenched his hands from her grasp, dodging her arms as she tried to grab him and pushing his way through the forest of legs until he’d reached Stiles. At the sudden appearance of the small child, the adults seemed to freeze in collective shock, unsure quite what to do.

Undaunted, Gideon pushed a thumb between his lips and toddled over to where Stiles lay, inspecting him with a child’s innocent curiosity. When he turned back to the watching crowd his little brow was creased in confusion and disappointment. “That’s not a monster! That’s just a boy with a big belly! Why did you take off his clothes? Why’s he got sticky tape on his mouth?”

Nobody answered him.

“GIDEON!” The boy’s mother pushed her way through the crowd, snatching him up in her arms…And just like that the spell was broken. They all crowded round Stiles again.

“Disgusting freak!”

“Dirty little queer!”

“Abomination!” One of the women dropped her knees beside him and spat in his face…And then they were all lining up to spit on him, holding his face so he couldn’t turn away, laughing as they smeared the great gobs of saliva across his cheeks with their fingers. 

“You like that Carrier, huh? You like that?”

“Aww, look! I think it’s gonna cry!”

And she couldn’t watch it anymore. She wriggled out of her father’s grip and hurried towards the door…

“ALLISON!” Her grandfather’s shout made her stop in her tracks. She turned. “Allison, this abomination lied to you, pretended to be your school friend while hiding its true identity…Don’t you want to put it in its place?”

No, of course she didn’t, but…All eyes were on her now. Her mother, Kate, Jonas-They were all watching. This was test of her loyalty. She swallowed.

“Sure.” As she walked towards him her feet felt like lead. It won’t hurt him, she told herself, it won’t hurt. She’d never hurt him…

Yet when she was standing over him she could see the hurt already in those beautiful brown eyes as he stared pleadingly up at her-hurt mixed with fear. Her heart lurched when she realised…He was actually afraid of her. 

But they were all watching.

She twisted her expression into one of hatred and crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his forehead and tilting his head so she could shout into his face. “You lied to me! You pretended to be normal! Human! But you’re an abomination! A filthy carrier! AND I HATE YOU!” Then she spat in his face, just like all the others.

She was climbing to her feet when Jonas came up behind her. “I have another idea that’ll definitely put him in his place.” 

There was something in his tone that made the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She turned…To find him grinning, one hand on the zipper of his flies. His intentions were crystal clear. This was a test of his own for her. But again, she told herself, it won’t actually hurt him. She could feel all of their stares burning into her as she nodded, pasting on a sadistic grin.

“Yeah! Do it!”

“Alright boys, hold his head back!”

She stared straight ahead, fighting not to flinch at the sound of the zipper being pulled down, at the hiss of the urine, blinking her tears away even as his muffled whimpers filled her ears, the pitiful sound almost drowned out by their laughter. As soon as Jonas finished another man moved to take his place, the crowd cheering him on. She truly couldn’t watch anymore-but she’d proven herself to them so she didn’t have to.

She turned…To see Scott standing in the corner, still as a statue, his gaze fixed on her. One look at his face told her that any love he’d ever had for her was gone, to be replaced by hatred and white-hot loathing.

He looked as if he wanted to kill her.

 

*******************

 

Jonas finished wrapping the chain around Stiles’ throat and closed the padlock with a click before cuffing his hands in front of him. He sat back on his heels and wrinkled his nose in amused disgust.

“Urgh Abomination, you stink!”

Stiles glared at him in defiance. “Fuck you.”

He chuckled at that before turning to where Scott knelt beside Stiles. “Hey Carrier Lover, you need to teach your pet some manners before I smack him in the mouth.” He stood and pointed to the tiny WC with it’s toilet and sink. “You piss and shit in there. And that-“ He pointed to the mattress in the middle of the floor with its pillow and blanket. “Is your bed. Of course you’ll have to share, but I’m sure you two little faggots won’t mind.” He smirked at Stiles. “Especially you, Abomination. You love it up the ass, don’t you?”

“Hey, why don’t you leave him the fuck alone!”

Jonas lashed out, smacking Scott across the face. “Watch your mouth, boy! I can’t hit the freak too hard ‘cause he’s got a baby in him, but they don’t care if I kick the shit out of you!” He pointed to the mattresses nailed to the walls. “You can yell all you want, no one’s gonna hear you. Good night, boys!”

As soon as the door slammed and the bolt clicked shut Stiles was on his feet, chain trailing behind him as he marched about the basement room, inspecting every corner.  
“There has to be a way out of here! There has to be! Don’t just stand there! Help me look! SCOTT!” He was raging, manic, shaking so hard Scott could hear his teeth chattering. As he paced, tears spilled down his cheeks and he swiped them away with trembling fingers. 

“Stiles…”

“There’s got to be a-a window, a crawl-space beneath the floorboards, m-maybe something we can use to pick the lock.” He made for the stairs, only to be pulled up short by the chain around his neck. “SHIT!”

“Stiles…”

He tugged at it desperately trying to yank it free from the ring in the floor, before glancing frantically round him for something, anything, to get it off. Then he spotted the camera above the doorway.

“They’re filming us, Scott!” He pointed at it. “They’re actually filming us!”

“Stiles, calm down. This isn’t good for you.”

But he was screaming up at it, holding up his cuffed hands for the camera. “YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?! YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, YOU SICK FUCKS?! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR BULLSHIT CAMPAIGN! I’M DUE IN FIVE WEEKS!” As soon as the words left his lips the enormity of the situation seemed to overwhelm him. “I-I’m due in five weeks.” He sank to the floor, covering his face with his hands. 

Scott made his way over to the filthy sink and turned on the tap. The old pipes creaked and squeaked and then brownish water spurted out into the bowl. He waited until it ran clear before tearing off the edge of his shirt and wetting it thoroughly. Then he moved to kneel beside his best friend.

“Shhh…It’s O.k. Here.” He pried Stiles’ hands gently away with his fingers and cradled his face, gently wiping away their urine and saliva where it had crusted on his cheeks. “You could wash your hair in the sink. And I could wash your shirt for you, if you want?"

“Thanks, man.” Stiles sat still until he’d finished, obviously desperate for a bit of kindness after their cruelty. “They want me as a hostage. Why?”

Scott sat down beside him, fumbled for in his pocket for his inhaler, and took a puff. “Because they’re total psychos?”

“And Allison’s one of them.” At the mention of her name Scott flinched. 

“I didn’t know Stiles, I swear.”

“I know you didn’t. She played us both-Treacherous bitch.” Stiles sighed. “Why didn’t you run, like I told you to? They were after me, not you. They wanted to kidnap me, not you. And you being here now doesn’t change that. I’m their hostage…You’re expendable. They could kill you whenever they want.”

He knew Stiles was right, and surprised at how little he cared. “Whatever. You’re my best friend. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“Dumbass move…But thanks.” Stiles gave him a thin, pinched smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then his brow furrowed and he winced, clutching his bump and wrinkling his nose in discomfort. “Oof!”

Scott panicked. “What?! What’s wrong?!”

To his surprise, Stiles shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s just the baby kicking. It’s good actually; means she’s alright in there.”

“Oh. That’s a relief.” Scott looked down at his swollen stomach and then back up, suddenly seized by curiosity. “What does it feel like?”

Stiles considered the question. “When she moves it’s like butterflies, but not. When she kicks it’s…well…Do you want to feel?”

“I guess. I won’t hurt her, will I?”

Stile shook his head. “No, but I think all the yelling must have upset her because she’s wriggling around a lot. Here.” He reached out, the chains on his cuffs clinking, and took Scott’s hand, placing it carefully on his stomach. “Now, wait.”

It felt strange, much harder than Scott had imagined, but also warm…and then…something poked out into his palm.

“Wow!” He yanked his hand away with a yelp. “What was that?”

“A baby.” Stiles smiled. “My baby.” His own hands slid protectively down over his stomach and he smile faded. Suddenly he looked more frightened than Scott had ever seen him. “My baby is due in five weeks. What if they end up keeping us here that long? Scott, I’m scared enough of giving birth without having to do it in chains in a fucking basement! And-and what if they want to hurt her?”

“Hey.” Scott caught him by the shoulders. “You are not going to give birth down here! And they are not going to hurt you or your baby! I won’t let them!”

Stiles looked up at him, his face pinched with fear and fresh tears shining in his eyes. “Like you could stop them.”

Scott knew he was right. He was an asthmatic sixteen year old and they were a group of heavily armed adults convinced they had God on their side. But at least he could promise one thing. 

He reached for Stiles, pulling him into a hug. “I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time- The F.A.C make their demands and the hunt begins to find Scott and Stiles.


	11. Chapter Eleven-Tick, Tock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I am sooooo sorry that this is so late! Life has been hectic ( a few babies born! I'm an auntie again!) and then I was hit by terrible Writer's Block! Thank you so much for staying with me and for your comments. You are all amazing!

Chapter 11-Tick, Tock. 

 

For Sheriff Stilinski the station had always been his own little kingdom. Nothing happened here that he didn’t know about…Until now. Now for the first time he was out of the loop, off the case while in the office beyond, members of the FBI did the job he’d always been so good at…Because he was too close to this one. It felt strange sitting at the civilian side of the desk in the interview room.

He’d never felt this powerless.

The agent opposite pushed an evidence bag towards him. “Sheriff, can you confirm this belongs to your son?”

He lifted it up, examining the cell phone inside. Its screen was shattered, almost as if it had been stamped on, but he recognised the Star Wars case. He nodded.

“Yes. That’s Stiles’ phone.”

He put his head in his hands. 

In the bull-pen beyond he could hear them all discussing the disappearance of Scott and Stiles…Only they never mentioned his name.

“The blue and black 1980 Jeep CJ-5 that we found abandoned on route 14-license plate 6FMQ803-belonged to the Carrier. There was evidence of a struggle…”

“The Carrier left Beacon Hill Memorial Hospital accompanied by his friend Scott McCall…”

“The Carrier is five foot eleven, approx. 147 pounds, has brown hair, hazel eyes and was wearing blue jeans, a white T-shirt, a red hooded sweatshirt and white Nike sneakers size seven …”

“Please note; the Carrier is eighteen weeks pregnant, due to give birth in another five.”

“The Carrier…”

“The Carrier…”

He turned to where the agent was carefully storing Stiles’ smashed phone in an envelope. “Excuse me?”

She looked up. “Yes, Sheriff?”

He gestured toward the open door and the agents and officers beyond, almost all of whom were strangers. “I’d like to talk to them.”

“I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem. Just give me a minute.”

She left the room and he wiped a hand over his eyes, exhausted. It had been eight hours since Melissa had called to ask him if the boys were at his house, five hours since they’d found the jeep and combed the area, three since they’d called in the big guns. And with every second that ticked past he knew they were running out of time. They couldn’t think of Stiles as just ‘The Carrier’-Not when they were the ones tasked with finding him. 

A man in a dark suit appeared in the doorway. “Sheriff Stilinski, I’m Agent Warren. I understand you’d like to address the troops?” He offered his hand and the Sheriff rose to shake it. “Perhaps you’d like to fill them in our two missing persons?” 

“Sure.” He followed him in to face the crowd of officers and agents already assembled and waiting. Noah Stilinski knew enough to know that, while the County Sheriff, he was still a big fish in a very small pond. He wasn’t in charge of any of them…But he guessed he had something in common with most. 

He took a deep breath.

“Hi, everyone. My name is Noah Stilinski and I’m a cop, like most of you. I’m guessing a lot of you are also parents.” A few nodded, watching him curiously now, obviously wondering where he was going with this. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “And this job…It makes parenting that much harder. Because we KNOW what’s out there. Most parents read about it in the papers over coffee, but us? We hunt down monsters every day; we stare them in the face and listen to them as they recount every sick detail of their crimes. Then we go home, hug our kids and pray they’ll never know how dark the world really is; prey that we can protect them from it. I don’t know any cop who doesn’t keep a loaded gun by their bed and make damn sure their kids bedroom is past theirs.” There were a few more nods. “Five months ago I got a phone call from my late wife’s friend, Melissa. That was the worst phone call of my entire life. She told me she was at the hospital…That my teenage son had been attacked.” He turned to the school photos tacked up on the corkboard behind him and pointed to the one of Stiles, smiling his cheeky grin at the camera. “This is my son, Mieczyslaw. We named him after his grandfather. As a kid he couldn’t pronounce it-Nearest he could get was ‘Mischief’. So that’s what we called him ‘til he hit twelve and decided ‘Stiles’ was a cooler nickname.” He felt a rush of relief when he noticed a few people in the room smile and nod in understanding. They were beginning to relate to him, think of him as a kid just like theirs. That was good. He pressed on. 

“When I got that call, I kept thinking that he’d gotten himself into a fight with some other kid; that he’d been beaten up. Then when I arrived Melissa told me the truth: that my son had confided to hers that he’d been sexuality assaulted at a party a few months back. The guy that did it was one of my collars. I’d collared him for attacking young boys…Then they’d let him out to rape my sixteen year old. And Stiles didn’t tell me. I don’t know-perhaps he was afraid; ashamed, even. Either way, he’d kept it all bottled up inside. Of course, I knew something was up-He wasn’t eating, was having Night Terrors-but as a parent, your mind won’t even let you go there. I’d convinced myself that he just missed his Mom. After all, he was going through a lot anyway.” 

He raised his head to glare defiantly at them all. “My son was born with the C919394 gene mutation. I know you all think you know what that means-You don’t. For Stiles it meant monthly hospital visits, painful tests, humiliating examinations, medications that made him sick, and lying to everyone he knew. It meant turning on the TV every day and watching a bunch of adults talking about how he shouldn’t be allowed to exist. And it also meant that eventually he had to tell someone he’d been raped-Because his assailant had made him pregnant. At sixteen years old-A kid himself. He was too far gone and we couldn’t abort…So he decided to keep the baby- A brave decision that obviously made him a target.” He turned back to the board and pointed to the picture of Scott, smiling into the camera as his thick black hair flopped into his eyes. “This is Scott McCall, my son’s best friend. He’s also sixteen and severely asthmatic-He’s been hospitalised twice in the last year with attacks and takes high doses of Salamol and Ventolin, both administered by inhaler. Neither inhaler was found in the jeep so we’re hoping he has them on his person. It is unlikely that Scott was the intended target. Evidence from the scene suggests there was a struggle. Knowing Scott, it’s more than likely that he tried to stop their attackers abducting Stiles and was taken as well to stop him raising the alarm. Obviously that means his life is also in danger.” He turned back to fix them with a pleading look. “Scott knew Stiles’ Carrier status and still thought my son was worth saving. I hope you do too, because his life and the life of his unborn baby may depend on it. My son isn’t just his condition-He’s a human being, a child, a victim. Please remember that.” 

He left the room without looking back.

 

Melissa was waiting for him in the corridor, slumped over in a plastic chair, still dressed in her scrubs. He sank down silently beside her and put his head in his hands. For a few moments they just sat, paralysed by shock and fear. When she finally spoke, she forced out the words as if they caused her physical pain.

“So…How likely is it that they’ll still be alive? And don’t you dare lie to me, Noah.”

He kept his gaze on the floor. “It depends who took them and why. If-if they took Stiles to make some sort of political statement then he may be more valuable to them alive.”

“But not Scott.” Melissa swallowed a sob. “Not Scott. My baby’s dead.”  
“No! No, you can’t think like that. We don’t know.” He reached for her and she pressed her face to the point of his shoulder, her tears making his Sheriffs’ jacket damp. “There’s no reason to think that.”

Loathe to leave her alone, he instead brought her back to his house, making them cups of coffee that they nursed until they grew cold. Above them, the kitchen clock ticked.

“Forty-eight hours.”

“What?”

Melissa looked up from the kitchen table. Her face was grey and pinched with worry, her brown eyes swollen and red from crying. “Forty-eight hours. They say that in any child abduction the first forty-eight hours are crucial. After forty-eight hours the chance of finding them alive diminishes sharply.”

“It hasn’t even been a day yet and we have no idea what really happened.”

She shook her head. “We know who took them. It had to be one of those hate groups, maybe even the F.AC-You know it, and I know it. They’re just kids to us, but to them? Stiles is a Carrier with a baby growing inside him, and Scott is a Carrier Sympathiser who has no real value as a hostage. IF they’re still alive, just think of the damage that could be done to them in twelve hours.”

“Melissa…”

“Think about it…Because I can’t stop thinking about it. They’ve got our kids, Noah! They’ve got our boys!”

He reached across the table to take her trembling hands in his, unashamedly meeting her tears with his own as he thought about his son’s empty bedroom right above their heads; thought about how somewhere out there Stiles was definitely terrified, possibly in pain…And how he wasn’t there to stop it. 

Above them the clock kept ticking. 

 

Later that night, after Melissa had cried herself to sleep on the couch, the sheriff sat slumped in an armchair, staring blankly at the flickering television screen. On it flashed the images he’d long become numb to-Protesters marching on Washington’s streets, placards held high as they screamed at armed riot police in bullet-proof vests; two opposing sides separated by a wall of black. For the first time in a long time he looked, really looked, at the side who dared to call themselves ‘Right’-And felt sick to his core when he realised it was the largest crowd. For the first time, he truly began to fear that the tide was turning. He moved over to the TV and crouched, nose pressed against the screen as he inspected the men and women on that ‘Right’ side; their red-flushed faces made twisted and monstrous by hate as they screamed about morality. They were terrifying in their rage.

Suddenly the scene changed. In a newsroom lit with florescent lights, a News Anchor sat opposite a bald sallow-skinned man in a neat suit. A banner flashed across the bottom of the screen.

“REPUBLICAN SENATOR TERRY AKIN-“WE HAVE A SOLUTION TO THE CARRIER CRISIS THAT BENEFITS ALL.”

Somehow, Noah doubted that. He turned the sound up just enough that he could hear them whisper through the speakers. On screen, the News Anchor turned to the man in front of him with a forced smile.

“Good evening, and thank you for joining us Senator. Many of those who are out there protesting against the proposed ‘Sterilisation and Registration’ Bill for Carriers of the C919394 gene believe it is inhumane-an argument Senate has so far agreed with. By offering an alternative, are you admitting this is true?”

The bald man shook his head, folding his hands carefully in front of him on the desk. “We still believe that the sterilisation and registration of Carriers is, in fact, the most humane treatment for these creatures. Sterilisation prevents them suffering hormone fluctuations, the pain and humiliation of menstrual periods and so on. However, they would still be without a role in our society. Our solution will give them one.”

“And what role might that be?”

The senator fought to keep the smirk of pride from his thin lips. “What are Carriers designed to do? Breed. And at the moment our countries infertility rate is rising. Therefore, we are proposing that male Carrier children become Wards of the State after birth. Once they reach sexual maturity they will then become the Wards of infertile married couples, taking on the role of ‘Host-Donors’ in the household. Any Carriers they bear will go back to the State, while their couple may raise any non-Carrier children born as their own.”

The News Anchor frowned at that. “But Senator, many have argued your proposal is nothing more than sexual slavery.”

The Senator scoffed, as if the very notion was ridiculous. “Hardly. The Carrier is a sad creature-Neither really male nor female, it has no position in traditional society or family life. As a ‘Donor-Host’ it would be given one. Couples would also receive a State allowance to provide food and clothing for their ‘Donor-Host’ and periodic checks would be made to ensure the ‘Donor-Host’ is treated as humanely as possible.”

“And if these so-called ‘Donor-Hosts’ resist?”

“Training and equipment will be provided to the couples for such an eventuality, but once they realise the joy that are bringing into their couples’ lives through providing them with children, most ‘Donor-Hosts’ will, no doubt, feel honoured.”

“But one of the main objections to the existence of Carriers is that they encourage homosexual acts. How do you then justify the men in these households impregnating their ‘Donor-Hosts’?”

“That may be the view of some of the Religious groups, but it is not the view of many members of my party. Those objections were first formed before we truly considered the Carrier as an entity. They are not, in our opinion, male-Therefore, any sexual act for the purposes of procreation cannot be viewed as homosexual in nature. This solution is truly best for all concerned as there will also be no need for them to endure Sterilisation.” He winked. “Which will, no doubt, please those Liberals in Capital Hill. This proposed solution is being considered as we speak.”

Noah dropped slowly to his knees. Forced sterilisation or state-condoned rape-These were the acts these groups wanted to inflict on innocent children…And one of these groups had his son. He knew it.

As the scene on screen changed back to those warring protesters he whispered, half to himself and half to Stiles wherever he was. “Oh, baby, what sort of world did I bring you into?”

 

*********************************

 

Allison reached the door at the end of the landing and knocked it softly.

“Enter!”

The small box room had been filled with electrical equipment-computers, video cameras, monitors. At the far end, silhouetted in the blue light that emanated from their screens, sat Simon. He was their resident Tech guy and, in many ways, the most essential part of the whole operation. He glanced over his shoulder before turning quickly back to his lap-top.

“Hi Ally.”

“Hi.” She pulled a chair over and sat down beside him, peering over his arm. On the flickering, grainy screen she could just make out the basement. “What are they doing?”

Simon pointed to a figure curled up on the mattress to the far right of the screen. “Your boyfriend appears to be sleeping.”

The sight of Scott curled up on that filthy mattress made her heart lurch in her chest, but she knew she couldn’t betray any sign of worry or concern. Instead she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That Carrier Lover isn’t my boyfriend. He lied to me. Just because I made sure they didn’t kill him, doesn’t mean I care.”

For a moment his eyes searched her face for any sign of insincerity. Then, satisfied, he turned back to the screen. “I don’t know what that little freak’s doing, but he’s making me dizzy.”

She leaned closer.

Stiles was walking around the room in slow circles; no, not walking-shuffling. Every so often he’d stop and double over, his cuffed hands flying to his abdomen, face twisting as he gritted his teeth. 

Simon chuckled. “He’s hungry.”

It made sense-They hadn’t fed them since they’d been taken. But, still Allison knew better-He was in pain. 

She glanced across to the man beside her, only a few years older than she was. “Do you know its real name?”

He shook his head, reaching for a Starbucks cup and slurping on its straw. “Nope. And I don’t care.”

“It’s Mieczyslaw Stilinski. It’s a Jew-Like you.”

He scowled at the very suggestion he may have something in common with their prisoner. “That thing’s not a Jew. It’s a child of some lesser god-An Abomination.”

“Yeah, I know.” She glanced down to where he drummed his fingers against the table. “Hey, you been for a smoke break yet? You look like you could use one.”

“Nah, no one else to keep an eye on them.”

“Well, it’s not like they’re going to go anywhere. I could cover for you, if you want? I can’t sleep anyway.”

For a moment he considered it, staring at her thoughtfully, before the nicotine pull became too much. “O.k, cool. I won’t be long anyway. Thanks Allison.”

“No problem.” She watched him leave, listeningfor the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, the creak of the back door. She gave it a few extra minutes and then headed for the kitchen.

 

They’d decided to sleep in shifts. Of course Scott had argued when Stiles said he’d take first watch, but Stiles had insisted. He knew the baby wouldn’t allow him to get much rest anyway. 

She was moving inside him, constantly shifting so that one moment she was kicking his bladder and the next she seemed all the way up in his rib-cage, making him struggle to catch his breath. Unable to sit or lie comfortably he instead limped back and forth in an attempt to sooth her, the muscles and tendons in his hips screaming in protest. As he moved he became aware of the stench of urine that clung to his clothes, skin and hair. He blinked back tears of humiliation as he remembered all those sneering faces staring down at him; the feel of their hands on him as they stripped him and held him down; their laughter; the heat of their spit and piss on his skin. A fresh sense of betrayal slashed through him as he remembered the look of contempt on Allison’s face, the feel of her hand on his forehead as she spat on him like he was scum-less than an animal….And his vision swam with tears, bile rising in his throat as he remembered the man with the rat-tail who’d crouched between his thighs, laughing as he’d forced his fingers inside him, the pain so like that night in the woods. He’d never in his life felt so hated. He knew these people would kill him and his baby without even blinking. 

The fear was a Tsunami threatening to break over him. To keep it at bay, he rested his cuffed hands on his bump, whispering a mantra to reassure his baby and himself. “My dad will find us before they hurt us. I know he will. My dad will find us.” 

The thud of the bolt on the door above being pulled back sent him scurrying into the corner furthest from the stairs, his arms wrapping protectively over his stomach. He found himself praying it wouldn’t be the guy with the rats-tail, or the blonde woman; both of whom seemed to particularly savour terrorising him. 

“Hi, Stiles. I just came to check if you were o.k.”

Allison’s tone was quiet, tentative, but still at the sight of her standing at the top of those stairs, a red mist seemed to descend. 

“TREACHEROUS BITCH!” He lunged towards her, teeth bared, only to be yanked back by the chain around his throat. “YOU PRETENDED TO BE MY FRIEND! YOU PRETENDED TO BE SCOTT’S GIRLFRIEND! YOU LIED TO EVERYONE!”

She crept slowly down until she was standing on the bottom step, just out of his reach. “No! It-it wasn’t like that! I didn’t know you were the Carrier. I didn’t…”

“AND NOW YOU DO, YOU HATE ME!” He paced back and forth at the end of the taunt chain, like a wild animal on a leash. 

“No! I don’t hate you…”

“YOU SPAT IN MY FACE! YOU STOOD BY AND YOU WATCHED AS THEY STRIPPED ME NAKED, AS THEY TOOK TURNS PISSING ON ME! I’M PREGNANT, ALLISON! I’M FUCKING PREGNANT! BUT YOU DON’T GIVE A FUCK! BECAUSE I’M A CARRIER, A MONSTER, RIGHT? RIGHT?!”

He thought she’d come to gloat, but instead she seemed close to tears. “Stiles, I-I never…”

But still all the hurt, fear and humiliation merged into a white-hot rage, pulsing through him, driving him on. If he’d been able to reach her, he was sure at that moment that he would have ripped her to shreds. “DON’T YOU DARE CRY! NOT AFTER WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO US! DON’T YOU DARE! Tell me Allison, why am I the monster here when you’re the one doing monstrous things? WELL?”

“I-I…”

“WELL?”

And then suddenly Scott was between them, holding him back. “STILES! STILES, CALM DOWN! If they hear you they might come down here and hurt you!”

Stiles struggled against him, jabbing a finger at Allison as he yelled at her over Scott’s shoulder. “She’s the only reason we’re down here at all! It was you, wasn’t it?! WASN’T IT?! They knew there was a Carrier at the school but it was you who gave them my name! IT WAS YOU WHO TOLD THEM WHERE TO FIND ME!”

Allison was sobbing now, tears dripping down her chin as her body shook. “I HAD TO! I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE!”

“NO ALLISON, I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE! You think you hate the ‘Carrier’ gene? Try being born with it! I didn’t have a choice! Do you think I wanted what happened to me at the party that night? No! But he didn’t give me a choice! Do you think I wanted to get pregnant at sixteen?! No! But, again, I didn’t have a choice! At no point Allison have I EVER had a choice! But you did! You did, and you chose to lie to us all about the fact that you were F.A.C. You chose to tell them my name even you knew what they were planning to do! You chose to tell them where to find me! You CHOSE to spit in my face!” 

“It’s o.k man, it’s o.k!” Scott pushed him gently back, rubbing his hands up and down his arms in an attempt to sooth him. “Stiles look at me.” He obeyed, staring into Scott’s deep brown eyes as he fought back tears. “You need to calm down. You’re pregnant. Just breathe.” He then turned to Allison.

“He’s right. You lied to us. You lied to me.”

Allison sank down onto the step, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t know how to tell you, I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

“I don’t.” His tone was cold as ice. She let out a sharp gasp, but Scott ignored it. “We need to know-Why did they want to kidnap Stiles? What’s their plan for him?”

Allison met Stiles’ glare with a look that begged for forgiveness. “They don’t want to hurt you. Not really. You’re our hostage.”

“No shit!” Stiles held up his cuffed hands. “And what kind of ransom do they want my dad to pay?”

She shook her head. “It’s not about your dad. This is way bigger than that. Stiles you are now a hostage of the F.A.C as an organisation. Our demands are that Congress must pass the Carrier Sterilisation and Registration Bill or you’ll be killed. Because you’re a kid and you’re pregnant, you’re the perfect example of why the law should be passed. Stiles, this is going to be huge. They want you to be all over the news. They’re counting on it.”

“Jesus Christ!” Scott gawped at her, wide-eyed.

“No!” Allison rushed to reassure him. “No, this is good! The U.S government won’t let a pregnant teenager be killed; you won’t get hurt Stiles! They’ll give in in a couple of weeks! And the bill will be passed!”

“You think that’s a good thing, do you?” Stiles scowled at her and she blinked at him in bewilderment.

“Well yeah, don’t you? If Carriers get sterilised people will leave them alone; if they get sterilised, in a few generations the mutation would be wiped out! No more Carriers! No more people born wrong! Stiles, you still don’t get it. If your parents had gotten you ‘Fixed’ you wouldn’t have gone through everything you have! You wouldn’t be pregnant! You could have been a proper human being!” 

Stiles felt his rage ebb away to be replaced by a weary disgust that weighed heavy in his chest. “No Allison, you don’t get it…I wasn’t born wrong, and I never needed to be fixed.” He shook his head. “You’re a fucking Nazi, just like the rest of your family. Just like the rest of the F.A.C.” He went to the mattress and lowered himself painfully down onto it, covering his face with his hands.

Scott turned to her, shaking his head in disgust. “He is a proper human being. He’s kind, caring, empathetic, compassionate-All the traits that make us human…All the traits that you and your Family clearly don’t have. So what does that make you? Apart from a fucking good actress because you definitely had me fooled.”

He went to sit beside Stiles, sliding a comforting arm over his shoulders. 

Allison wiped her tears with her sleeve, and reached behind her. She produced a paper bag and two water bottles, holding it up for them to see. “I got you some water and food. It’s not much-Just some sandwiches and cookies-But it’s been, like, a day since you’ve had anything so…” She set them carefully down within their reach and climbed the stairs. At the top she stopped to look back. “Scott, I wasn’t acting-I do love you. And Stiles? I really don’t hate you, I swear. You’ve always been nice to me, and I wish it didn’t have to be this way. My dad and I-we don’t agree with the others when it comes to hurting you in any way and I promise we’ll do our best to stop it happening. They’ll come and get you tomorrow morning. Don’t fight them.”

The door slammed shut behind her and the bolt slid back into place.

Stiles turned to Scott, frightened. “Get me for what?”

Scott shrugged and went to fetch the bag. “No idea. Nothing good. But you heard Allison-They won’t hurt you.” They sank down onto the mattress. “Look, I know you’re scared-But you’re also having a baby. You need to eat.”

Stiles shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your baby needs you to.” Scott reached inside and pulled out a sandwich, inspecting it before holding it out to him with his cuffed hands. “Looks like PBJ.”

Stiles took it from his fingers and bit reluctantly into it. It was only when the salty sweet filling hit his tongue that he realised just how ravenous he was. He wolfed the rest while Scott ate silently beside him. Once he’d finished he turned to where Scott sat hugging his knees to his chest. For the first time since their whole ordeal had started, his best friend looked frightened. “Hey, you o.k?”

Scott made to nod…Then he stopped and instead shook his head, reaching up to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve. “My Mom’s probably really freaking out right now. I’ve never even been late home from school without calling her. She’ll be all alone.”

Stiles felt a rush of guilt. It was his fault Scott was chained up in this basement. “No she won’t. She’ll have told my dad by now. They’ll be looking for us, Scott.”

“But will they find us in time?” His dark eyes trailed down to Stiles’ bump. “You’re my best friend, Stiles. There’s no way I’ll let them hurt you or your baby-I’ll kill them all first, but…but what if you go into labour? I-I’m sorry, but I would have no idea what to do.”

“Then I’d tell you. But it won’t come to that, because we’ll get out of here way before then. My Dad will find us.” Stiles tried to speak with more certainty than he felt. 

Scott nodded. “I also feel so stupid about Allison. I can’t believe I didn’t notice; that I trusted her…”

“We all did.”

“I guess.” Scott bit his lip. “I really loved her, man.”

“I know.”

They drained their water bottles in silence. Then Scott nudged him. “You need to get some sleep. My watch.” Stiles wanted to protest, but at the mention of sleep his limbs suddenly grew heavy. Inside him, the baby had settled now and he realised it would probably be wise to rest while he could. He sank gratefully down onto the mattress, tugging the grubby blanket over himself as Scott climbed to his feet, his chain clinking, and moved to lean against a far wall. He rolled over onto his side to face his best friend, resting his head on his arm.

“Hey Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“I know what I’m going to call her. I’ve got a name.”

Scott’s eyes lit up at that. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

“You’ll find out when we get out of here and I have her.”

“O.k, cool.” They shared a smile. Then Scott turned his gaze back to the staircase and Stiles settled down to sleep.

 

Stiles was roused by a strange snuffling noise and opened his eyes to find Scott’s face inches from his own. He was asleep, snoring softly, his chained hands tucked beneath his chin and his legs tangled with Stiles’ just like when they’d shared a bed as little kids. Stiles smiled to himself; Some Look-out. He reached for Scott’s shoulder. “Hey, Scott…”

BANG!

The door above them ricocheted off the wall.

“WAKEY-WAKEY, FAGGOTS!” 

Both of them jerked upright, turning to see the blonde woman and the skinny man with the rats-tail rushing down the stairs. The man had a rifle that he brandished over the banister at them. “ON YOUR FEET AND FACING THE WALL! NOW, YOU LITTLE SHITS!”

They shared a look of shocked terror before scrambling to obey, standing as close to the wall as their chains allowed. 

The couple made a bee-line for Stiles, laughing when he cowered at the sound of their footsteps behind him. The man wrapped an arm around his chest, holding him still, and tangled his fist in his hair, ignoring his hiss of pain as he yanked his head back. “You stink even worse now, Abomination!”

Stiles ignored him, somehow more concerned with the blonde woman who was now standing in front of him, eyeing him like a cobra just before it strikes. She reached out and he struggled in the mans’ grasp as she scraped the tip of her fingernail down the side of his cheek in a stinging line, ruby red beads of blood bubbling up from the cut she left behind. 

“You’re quite the cutie pie, aren’t you? But then that’s how you mutant freaks lure women in. I guess I should just be thankful Allison went for that one,” She jerked her head at Scott. “If I thought you’d laid a hand on her I’d have sliced your throat myself by now.” She sighed. “You know, I don’t get this whole ‘sterilisation’ bullshit.” She reached behind her and pulled her own gun from her waistband, holding it up for him to see. “If it were up to me, Carriers would all be put down like dogs.” She cocked it and pressed the muzzle to his forehead. “Starting with you. I’d cut your baby out of you first, though. It’s old enough to survive. I’d keep it, raise it as mine-As long as it didn’t have your disease, of course.”

She was trying to frighten him and it was working, but he wasn’t going to show it. Instead, he smirked back at her defiantly. “You think you scare me? It isn’t up to you, is it Sweetheart? Because you’re not the one in charge. I’m the key to this whole operation and if you harm me or my baby, your whole batshit crazy organisation will come down on you like a ton of fucking bricks. So cut the crap, because I’m not buyin’ it.” 

For a second he thought she was either going to punch him…Or pull the trigger. Then she un-cocked the gun and slid it back into her waistband. “You got a smart mouth, Abomination.” She reached into her jacket pocket. “Thankfully, I got a cure for that.” She held up a roll of black duct tape with a smug grin. “Hold it still, Jonas.”

The mans’ grip tightened, holding him in place. She wrapped the tape slowly round and round his head, before tearing off strips and sticking them beneath his chin, immobilising his jaw. Soon the whole lower half of his face was covered. She stepped back and laughed as she admired her handiwork . “There! That outta keep you quiet.” She turned her attention to Scott, who had been watching what she was doing with quiet revulsion. “Your turn, Lover Boy.” She stepped towards him and caught his chin in her hand, inspecting him. “You’re cute too-Look at those big brown puppy dog eyes. What a pity you’re a stupid Carrier Lover. You’re not good enough to lick the soles of my niece’s boots!” She tugged two hoods out of her pocket, tossing one to the man who held Stiles. “Put that on it and let’s go; they’re waiting.”

 

As they were shoved along, Stiles stared at the inside of the hood and concentrated on counting the number of steps they took, noting every time they climbed a flight of stairs, or had to wait for a door to be opened; every sound and smell-anything that might be useful should they be presented with a chance to escape. Wherever they came to a stop was cold and smelt of damp and dust. There was strange electronic beeping. A door slammed behind them and then an unfamiliar woman’s voice spoke.

“Hang the Carrier up over there. Put the other one on his knees beside him and cuff his hands behind his back.”

Strong hands closed on his arms, shoving him backwards until his back collided with what felt like a concrete wall. His hands were lifted, the chain on his cuffs fastened to something so far above his head that he was pulled up onto the tips of his toes. There was a muffled grunt and a thud as Scott’s knees hit the floor beside him.  
“Do you need us for anything else?” The blonde woman, sounding hopeful.

“No. Better to have as few people in the room as possible.” An unfamiliar man’s voice.

“You sure?” Rat-Tail sounded disappointed.

“You heard him.” Another man’s voice, this one low and gravelly with age. “We’ll call you to come get them when we’re done.” 

“Fine.” 

There were retreating footsteps and the slamming of a door. 

“So, are we ready?” The woman’s voice again.

“Just a sec…” Suddenly, the hood was yanked from his head and Stiles found himself in a bare, shadowy room with a sloped roof. Three masked figures faced him-One directly in front of him, still holding the hood; one lurking in the far corner, watching him with an aura of smug satisfaction…And one a few feet away, carefully setting up a video camera on a tripod. As he watched, they finished and turned to the one closest to him with a nod. “O.k, we’re good to go.”

“Alright.” The masked figure beside him-the woman-nodded.

As Stiles watched the red light on the camera began to blink rapidly. She took up position beside him, producing a gun and pointing it squarely at his temple. When she spoke again it was towards the camera, her voice oozing authority and menace. 

“This is a message for the United States Congress from the Faithful Against Carriers. For too long you have put the future of the people in this country in danger through your refusal to pass the Carrier Registration and Sterilisation Bill. We thought we’d show you the consequences of your negligence.” She moved in front of Stiles, unzipping his hooded jacket and tugging it open as he struggled, before pushing the hem of his T-shirt up to reveal his bump. Then she stepped back, gesturing towards him with the gun. “This is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. He is a Carrier; he is a child…And, due to the lack of compulsory sterilisation, he is pregnant. His baby, whatever its sex, will more than likely be born with the Carrier gene thereby propagating the spread of this poisonous mutation. We, the F.A.C, have exhausted every legal means possible to make the United States Government sit up and realise that something must be done to stop the Carrier plague. Therefore, you have given us no other recourse-Pass the bill before the end of the month or the Carrier dies. And just in case you get any ideas…” 

She moved over to Scott, catching him by the hair and ignoring his muffled yelp of pain as she tugged him up onto his knees and turned him to face the camera. “This boy has been found by our organisation to be a Carrier Sympathiser. As he has betrayed his kind and his country we believe him to be beyond redemption and disposable. Therefore, if there are any attempts to arrest, infiltrate, harass or intimidate the F.A.C as an organisation, we’ll kill him.” 

She released Scott and turned back to Stiles, her green eyes shining with smug satisfaction behind her mask. At first, he met her gaze with his own glare of defiance…Then she lowered the gun to his stomach and he froze, the blood in his veins turning instantly to ice. He’d almost gotten to the point where he didn’t care what anyone did to him anymore-But the thought of them harming his baby made him dizzy with fear. She smirked at the terror in his eyes before turning back to the camera. “Remember, the clock is ticking! This Carrier is already over five months gone…And if you drag your heels and he gives birth as our hostage, we’ll do to his infant what should have been done to him-Right here! It didn’t have to be like this-But you forced our hand! If you won’t protect the families of America from this mutant plague then we will-even if we have to spill Carrier blood to do it!” 

No matter how much he shrank away, no matter how much he struggled, he could still feel the guns’ muzzle poking into his skin, his womb, a thin wall of flesh the only thing separating it from his unborn child. Stiles looked up at the camera, its lens observing everything like some cold, mechanical eye, and he tried to plead as much as he could with no words, his eyes filling with tears. 

 

‘Please, help us! Please don’t let them hurt my baby!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.k, so please leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think!
> 
> Next time-The ransom video goes viral, Stiles finds himself an unlikely ally....And has a medical emergency....

**Author's Note:**

> I'm determined to update this every one to two weeks, which is my usual time frame. I have chapter 3 and most of chaoter 4 written already so it will probably be sooner. Thank you sooooooooooooooooooooo much for reading, you gorgeous person, you. Please leave a comment or some kudos below to let me know what you think!


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